


Forever Home

by thedeathchamber



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Harry, Bottom Louis, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Insecure Louis, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Romance, not sexual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeathchamber/pseuds/thedeathchamber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis heard humming, soft and melodious, and the scribble of a pen on paper, before he blinked into awareness, his vision focusing gradually to make out the person standing at the foot of his bed.<br/>It was a young male nurse, dressed in light blue scrubs. The morning autumn sunlight streaming in through the window lit up the hair that escaped from his bun like a halo.<br/>“Hi,” Louis croaked.<br/>The nurse’s head whipped up from his notes. “Oh, you’re awake—” When he looked at Louis his voice broke off and his face went slack. “You’re awake,” he repeated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Louis never had much of anything. No family. No money. No luck. But he had this one thing that made it all bearable... Until he didn't.  
> Then he meets Harry, who is willing to give him everything and more.  
> If there's one thing Louis has learned through the years, though, it’s that nothing is forever, and everything gets taken away eventually.
> 
> [Tumblr post](http://louehvolution.tumblr.com/post/146281745556/forever-home-pairing-harry-styleslouis-tomlinson)
> 
> \--
> 
> The child abuse referenced and implied is emotional, not physical or sexual.  
> The mental health issues are related to it and to the events that take place in the story; mainly self esteem issues, anxiety, and depression.  
> 

 

Louis crossed the street in a light jog, pulling the hood of his hoodie over his head against the rain. He didn’t notice the car until it blared out a warning, swerving to avoid Louis and speeding past with a lurching movement as it hit a pothole. Louis caught a brief glance of the driver’s furious face—shouting inaudible through the glass—as water splashed over his feet and spattered up to to the knee of his jeans.

He jumped onto the sidewalk, tucking his hands under his armpits in an attempt to warm his fingers, numb with cold, and continued down the street, head bowed. It was past five in the afternoon, light dwindling fast.

When he reached the corner of the street, Louis doubled back, pausing in front of a small grocery shop. He put a hand over his stomach, fist clenched, then ducked inside.

There were three women at the counter, chatting in Spanish. When he moved into the shop the tall shelf blocked him from their view. Louis looked up in a quick, practiced movement, checking for cameras, before unzipping his hoodie and stuffing a handful of chocolate and granola bars inside. He inspected the shelves and grabbed a pack of instant noodles, checking that he wasn’t bulging before grabbing a second one. He eyed the fruit section, lingering on the crate of ripe plums, but the women’s chatter had died down to a low muttering, so he hurried to the counter and slapped down two five pound notes for a pack of cigarettes, emptying his wallet.

“Pack of Mayfair, thanks.”

One of the women stared at him with narrowed eyes while the woman behind the counter fetched the pack from the shelf behind her. Louis offered a quirk of his lips and a nod, though his fingers twitched where they rested on the counter. As he stepped out of the store, Louis heard the woman behind the counter tell the others to check he hadn't stolen anything before the door closed behind him.

Louis grimaced and wrapped his arms around his middle as he pressed on. The rain was still going on, and he strained his calves with a fast pace in order to cut through the underpass, which stank of urine and was a maze of puddles.

He gave a sigh of relief as he splashed across the narrow street in the dark—the street lamp was broken again— and reached the dilapidated block of flats. Fading red brick and concrete, with more windows boarded up and broken than intact. He took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, and he was still breathing hard when he twisted the key into the lock, giving the door a shove with his shoulder to budge it open.

“Louis, is that you?” Zayn called from the bedroom.

“Yeah,” Louis replied, toeing off his wet trainers. “Though if I was a murderer I’d say that too.”

The sole of the left sneaker was coming loose, and the heel of the right was worn down almost to nothing. He stopped by the kitchen before going over to the bedroom, stuffing a third of a chocolate bar in his mouth.

“I don’t think a murderer would bother. No one’s gonna come knocking no matter how much screaming you do in this place,” Zayn said, looking up at Louis who froze in the doorway at the sight that greeted him.

Zayn was sitting cross-legged on his bed, surrounded by banknotes organized in neat little piles. He had a wad in his hand which he resumed counting, licking his thumb to separate the notes.

“How’d it go, babe? Any luck?” Zayn asked.

“No. Nothing worth shit in the trash. And no one’s hiring,” Louis said, tossing Zayn a granola bar.

“Thanks.” Zayn peered at the wrapper, looking over the nutritional info before nodding and peeling it open. “Shahid is hiring,” he said through a mouthful, dividing up the banknotes into two thick rolls, tied up with an elastic band.

Louis’ brow furrowed, licking the chocolate from the back of his teeth as he sat on his bed. “Not interested.”

“It’s good money.”

Louis peeled off his damp socks and rubbed his ankles—the elastic had irritated his skin, and all the walking had given him a blister. “And a hell of a risk. How can you trust someone who calls himself Naughty Boy?”

Zayn’s laughter was quiet. “That’s—yeah, that’s fair.”

Louis watched him as he broke off another piece of the granola bar and took a small bite.

“But his business is sound.”

Louis crumpled the chocolate bar wrapper in his hand after licking some melted chocolate off it. “Is that where that come from?” He gestured at the cash in front of Zayn. “You’ve been dealing for him?”

Zayn stared at Louis for a moment, then lowered his eyes. “I got fired from the store.”

“When?” Louis asked in surprise.

“Two weeks after you lost your job at the restaurant,” Zayn replied. “I can’t blame them, really—I kept filching make-up for Perrie and the girls.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Louis breathed, dropping his forehead to rest against his knees. “The rent is due in three days, Zayn.”

“Louis, relax, it’s not the first time we’ve both been without a job, and we’ve managed, yeah?” Zayn said, voice low and soothing.

Louis turned his head to peer at Zayn. “Yeah,” he agreed, softly.

Zayn got up from the bed and went over to sit next to Louis. “We left with nowhere to go and no one but each other, and we’ve survived for five years, bro.”

Louis flopped onto his back and Zayn followed him.

“We’ve gone to bed without dinner—”

“—and half-frozen our balls off,” Louis added, rolling to his side to face Zayn.

“But we’ve never been homeless since those first couple of weeks at the beginning, and we haven’t starved, or overdosed, or—”

“—or gone to prison for dealing drugs.”

Zayn fingered the wet cuff of Louis’ hoodie. “You should change your clothes.”

“ _Zayn._ ”

Zayn sighed. “All right, bloody hell, I _have_ been dealing. Just weed, you know? Good stuff, though, you said so yourself. But we can do more. Other stuff pays better, and Shahid is willing to give me—us—a chance.”

Louis ran his hand through Zayn’s hair, messing up his quiff. “A chance to get arrested and go to prison? That’s sweet of him.”

Zayn rolled his eyes. “A chance to make money.”

Louis made a face. “You can do that with a regular job and no risk of imprisonment.”

“Real money. We’re never going to get anywhere waiting tables or behind a cash register.”

“You’ve never had too much trouble finding a job, with that face.” Louis poked Zayn in the cheek.

Zayn rolled his eyes. “You’d rather I sell my body instead of drugs? You can go to prison for that too, y’know.” He snorted with laughter.

Louis’ answering grin was weak. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

The laughter died in Zayn’s face. “I know,” he said, his fingers curling around the fabric at the front of Louis’ hoodie.

“But you’re more than a pretty face, you twat. You’re clever—”

“And you’re not?” Zayn interrupted, tugging at the drawstrings of the sweatshirt.

Louis huffed, and batted Zayn’s hands off. “But you’ve got something to prove it. You aced your A-levels, love. And you always wanted to go to uni.”

“I did,” Zayn sighed.

Louis palmed the back of Zayn’s neck. “We could… ask for a loan. There are scholarships and shit...”

Zayn hummed, and didn’t quite meet Louis’ eyes when he said, “Simon said he’d give me a loan.”

Louis scowled, fingers tightening on Zayn’s nape. “The fucking bank is less likely to fuck you over than Simon.”

“The bank wouldn’t give me the time of day, you idiot.”

Louis pouted. "Right then." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "But… he was awful to us, Zee.”

Zayn gave Louis’ waist a squeeze. “I know, babe. I said he offered, not that I took it.”

“Why are you even talking to him? When did this happen?” Louis demanded.

“February last year. You were sick, remember?” Zayn replied, voice quiet. “You needed some fancy antibiotics, forty quid for a pack. I couldn’t think of anyone else—we didn’t know Olli or Perrie then.”

“ _Fuck._ ” Louis buried his face against Zayn’s neck. They held onto each other for a minute.

Zayn kissed the top of Louis’ head. “Let’s forget about it, yeah? We can go to McDonald’s, my treat.”

Louis raised his eyebrows. “You’re a reckless spender. Going all out the moment you have a bit of cash.”

Zayn laughed, scrunching up his nose. “I could hear your stomach rumbling,” he said as he stood up. “And we haven’t had a proper meal in ages.”

“You just want the Happy Meal toy,” Louis teased.

“Shut up or I won’t get you extra sauce for your nuggets,” Zayn said with a grin as he shrugged on his jacket, slipping one of the wads of money into an inside pocket.

Louis stared at him. “I know they’ve raised their prices, but that’s a bit much don’t you think?”

“That’s for later,” Zayn said, patting the front of his jacket flat.  Then he grabbed the other roll of banknotes from the bed. “And this is for emergencies.”

Before leaving, they divided the money and hid it around the flat: taped to the underside of a drawer, behind the broken radiator, and in the water tank of the toilet.

Louis patted the toilet with a sharp nod. “Well, we’re good as long as that kid in 2A doesn’t burn the building down.”

Zayn hooked an arm around his neck and dragged him out of the flat, laughing.

*

Louis sprawled in his seat, one hand rubbing his stomach.

“You ate way too fast,” Zayn told him, popping a couple of fries into his mouth.

Louis flipped him off half-heartedly, then frowned as Zayn glanced back at his phone.

“Didn’t you run out of data a week ago?”

Zayn hummed, typing something into his phone before looking up at Louis. “Shahid’s set up a meeting with one of his people.”

“ _Now?_ Like, tonight?”

“Yeah, he’s got some new shit. And I've got to give him his dosh from the last batch.”

He raised an eyebrow at a couple of women sitting two tables down who kept staring at them, eyes lingering on the tattoos peeking from under Zayn's clothes.

“Gotta go to Peckham,” Zayn went on, lowering his voice.

“What!” Louis whined. “That’s more than an hour away.”

Zayn gave a single shoulder shrug.“You don’t have to come,” he said without heat.

Louis shook his head. “Like hell. I’m not letting you go alone.”

Zayn smiled and reached over the table, offering Louis the last of his fries. “Want an ice cream, babe?”

*

The rain had stopped by the time the bus reached Peckham, but the wind had picked up as night came on. Zayn kept an arm around Louis as they crossed the street under the flickering orange glow of the street lamp.

Louis fit himself tighter against Zayn. “Your teeth are actually chattering.”

Zayn’s breath burst in front of them with his shuddering puff of laughter. “‘s bloody cold.”

Louis glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “We can just... leave, right? Give him the money and go?”

Zayn took a long moment to answer. “Bit of a waste of time to do that, though, innit? For him and for us?”

Louis clucked his tongue, shoulders hunching. “It’s gonna take forever to get back anyhow.”

“We’ll call a cab.” Zayn gave him a squeeze.

“You’ve got used to having brass real quick.”

Zayn giggled and smacked a kiss on Louis’ temple before stepping out of their half-embrace to check his phone.

“It’s a ten minute walk according to Google,” Zayn said.

They walked in guarded silence, close enough to brush against each other every other step.  

Zayn kept patting the front of his jacket and clearing his throat, while Louis rubbed his hands together and tried to loosen the tension in his neck.

The meeting point was behind a dilapidated butcher shop, closed in by a reeking dumpster and opening into a narrow passage between two houses with bricked up windows.

“Charming location,” Louis whispered. “Could do with an air freshener, though.”

A neon sign from a kebab shop on the other side of the street buzzed back into life, lighting up the scurry of a fat rat.

Zayn recoiled, stepping closer to Louis. “I’ll suggest the place to meet next time,” he joked, voice strained.

Louis was sweating under his jacket even as he shivered, huddled up next to Zayn while they waited for Naughty Boy’s contact to show up.

“You were supposed to come alone, Malik.”

A man ambled up to them, hands buried in the pockets of his trekkies.

Zayn tilted his chin up. “Never said anything about that,” he drawled, eyelids hooded.

The man had a thick reddish beard that obscured half his face, and Louis couldn’t make out his expression.

“This ain’t no tea party, kiddo, to invite your playmates. It’s a business meeting.”

“He’s my partner,” Zayn replied. “And my brother.”

There was a tremble in his voice, but it was faint enough that it could be passed off as a reaction to the cold.

The man came closer, his beard twitching. “You two brothers?”

“Got something to say about that?” Louis blustered.

The man snorted and raised his hands, the movement stiff because the fit of his jacket was too tight for the breadth of his chest.

“Nah. Brotherhood is more than blood.” The man cracked his knuckles. “And you’re a couple of runts from the same litter, aren’t you? I get that, mate, so quit your yapping.”

“I thought this was supposed to be a business meeting,” Louis retorted. “You’re being very unprofessional.”

The man guffawed. “Ain’t I just? Haven’t even introduced myself.” He extended his hand to each in turn. “It’s Isaac.”

“Tommo.” Louis shook his hand, gripping tight.

“Let’s get this done, puppies. It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.”

Louis hung back a little while Zayn and Isaac did the transaction, huddled around a makeshift table on which they had set out the packets of weed and meth. He blew into his cupped hands and walked out into the street to catch a breath of air that didn’t stink of rotting meat.

He stiffened when he saw the gang coming down the street: five white men with shaved heads and army boots.

“Shit, shit, _shit_.” Louis’ heart jumped to his throat when the men nudged each other and started running toward them, shouting and laughing. “Zayn!”

Isaac looked up, face alert at the tromping of boots. He straightened just as the gang rounded the corner.

“‘Evenin’.”

One of the men stepped forward, grinning; several of his teeth were missing. “What’ve we got ‘ere, eh?” He peered around Isaac’s body at the plastic baggies with the drugs. “‘ow ‘bout y’lot share a bit o’ them Bennies y’ dealin’ ‘n’ y’ save yerselves some trouble, yeah?”

Isaac squinted at the man. “Is that you, Calvin, you snot-faced Nazi scum? Haven’t you learnt your lesson about tryin’ to steal from Naughty Boy?”

Calvin’s face twisted. “I’ll be gettin’ me some new gnashers ‘n’ bite yer ear off, yeh pig.”

Zayn and Louis exchanged a glance. Zayn subtly tilted his head toward the narrow exit passage. Louis’ heart was hammering in his chest, his breath coming too quick.

Calvin kicked a tin at Zayn, who managed to duck before it hit him.

“Wha’ kind o' company yeh keepin’?” Calvin grunted at Isaac.

Isaac cocked his head at the sound of approaching police sirens.

“Better than you. Chummy with the coppers, are you? Is that why they following you around?”

One of Calvin’s men swore and pulled out a penknife. “C’mon, man. None of us want to get caught. Give us the damn dope.”

Isaac spat at his feet. “Fuck off.”

Louis jumped back as Calvin and two of his group lunged at Isaac. The other two went after Zayn, who was standing in front of the drugs like a guard. Zayn raised his hands and blocked the first swipe at his head, but couldn’t dodge the second when it came in from a different angle when he was distracted by a knee to the gut from the first attacker. Louis grit his teeth and kicked the man closest to him as hard as he could between the legs. The man roared, dropping to his knees.

“You little shit,” he snarled, twisting around and punching Louis in the chest from below.

Louis doubled over at the sharp pain in his left side, gasping, while the man scrambled to his feet, one hand still on his crotch and the other wielding something that glinted wetly in the light.

A voice shouted, “Fuck you lot!”

Through the ringing in his ears, Louis thought he heard running, and the crack of bone on bone.

“Let’s get outta ‘ere!”

Louis stood up straight as he could, hugging his side, in time to catch sight of two blurred figures dashing off.

Isaac, a bleeding gash on his forehead, clapped Zayn on the shoulder. “Word of advice: don’t get caught with that!” He shot them a grin and ran off.

The red and blue lights of the police car were reflected on a piece of broken glass, a rapidly expanding pinprick of light.

Zayn crouched with his fists on his knees. “ _Shit._ ”

The next moment he was stuffing bags into his jacket. He threw a few at Louis who fumbled to catch them.

Louis started to argue but Zayn cut him off. “If we lose it we still gotta pay him back.”

When Louis had stuffed the packets in his jacket, Zayn grabbed his wrist. “C’mon!”

They squeezed through the narrow passage and out into another street. Zayn hesitated, then pulled them to the left, rounding the corner and down another street. There was shouting coming from behind, while Zayn— his grip on Louis’ wrist painful— kept muttering for him to go faster.

Another street and into a dark alley before Louis had to stop. He wrenched his wrist from Zayn’s grip and staggered to lean against the wall.

“Louis, fuck, we gotta keep moving,” Zayn groaned, running his hand through his hair.

Louis gagged and threw up. “Damn, what a waste,” he wheezed, hand slipping on the wall as he failed to keep upright.

“C’mon, babe, please,” Zayn tried to pull him to his feet.

“I can’t, Zayn. I _can’t_.”

Louis cried out when Zayn let him fall back into his slumped position.

Zayn bit his lip, then crouched in front of him and jerked Louis’ jacket open, reaching inside to pull out a packet.

“Fuck, _Louis_.” Zayn’s eyes went wide and he froze.

Louis looked down: his shirt was wet on the left side of his abdomen, black in the dim lighting and sticking to his skin.

“That’s not coming out,” Louis said, his voice shaking.

Zayn exhaled through clenched teeth as he slipped the packet into his own jacket. Louis whimpered when Zayn dug into the inner pocket to pull out another couple of bags. Zayn shushed him, going still all of a sudden.

The sound of running footsteps and voice were close. The cops were practically on them.

Zayn scrambled to his feet. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Lou. _Sorry._ ”

He ran off, disappearing from sight just as the first cop came into view.

Louis’ head was spinning, his pulse droning in his ears. “Zee?” he moaned.

“No, mate.” A police officer knelt in front of Louis and inspected him quickly. “It’s the police.”

Another police officer sauntered up to them. “He got anything on him?”

“Yeah.”

Louis wasn’t sure what the policeman was holding up. His vision was swimming and blurred.

‘... need an ambulance...’

Louis heard grating static, then sirens, before he blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

  
Louis heard humming, soft and melodious, and the scribble of a pen on paper, before he blinked into awareness, his vision focusing gradually to make out the person standing at the foot of his bed.

It was a young male nurse, dressed in light blue scrubs. The morning autumn sunlight streaming in through the window lit up the hair that escaped from his bun like a halo.

“Hi,” Louis croaked.

The nurse’s head whipped up from his notes. “Oh, you’re awake—” When he looked at Louis his voice broke off and his face went slack. “You’re awake,” he repeated.

Louis’ brow creased. “Was I… _not_ supposed to wake up?” he asked, only half-joking.

The nurse cackled, then clapped a hand over his mouth, dropping his pen in the process. “Sorry.” He bent down to pick up the pen and resurfaced with pink cheeks. “Sorry. Of course you were.”

Louis couldn’t help but smile—even if it pulled at the nasal cannula for the oxygen—shrugging his shoulders in a quiet chuckle.

The nurse gaped at him for a second, then shut his mouth. The ripple of his throat was visible as he swallowed. “Sorry,” he said again. “It’s only—your eyes...”

Louis automatically tried to raise a hand to his face in concern, but the tug of the IV stuck to the back of his hand stopped him.

The nurse dropped the clipboard at the foot of the bed and hurried to untangle him. He adjusted the cannula and smoothed the tape over carefully before giving his wrist a pat. “There you go.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment with the whoosh of the oxygen in the background.

“Is there something wrong with my eyes… or did you have whiskers painted on?” Louis asked in a hushed voice.

The nurse’s eyes widened, and his hand shot up to rub at his cheek before his face split in a grin and he started giggling.

“It’s Halloween! I stopped by the children’s ward on my break—I thought I’d got it all off.”

Louis grinned. “Were you a kitten?” he teased.

The nurse nodded. “A fairy princess and a ballerina too.”

He beamed at Louis, who started laughing but had to curl an arm around his side at the pain.

“Ow, ow,” Louis whined theatrically just as the door opened.

A tall doctor with an elaborate quiff streaked in green came into the room, looping his stethoscope around his neck.

“Harry, don’t kill the patient. I know you’re new, but I thought that was a given,” he said, shooting the nurse—Harry—a grin before turning to Louis. “I’m Dr Nick Grimshaw. I performed your surgery.”

Louis nodded. “Right.”

Nick unceremoniously threw back the sheets and lifted Louis’ hospital gown. Louis glanced down as the doctor peeled off the dressing to reveal a six inch long scar crossing his side. Nick turned to Harry. “That needs cleaning,” he said.

Louis winced as Nick performed a quick examination.

“Feels fine to me. How’s the pain?” Nick pulled off the latex gloves with a snap.

“Not too bad. But what—”

“We had to perform a splenectomy—that means we removed your spleen.”

Louis instinctively looked to Harry, who smiled at him reassuringly. “You’ll be fine. You’ll just have to be extra careful about infections from now on.”

Nick washed his hands with a drop of antibacterial soap. “I’ll give you the big talk about it when you get discharged. For now, though, it would be marvelous if you could give us your name. You didn’t have any ID on you, and John Does are a bother.”

“It’s Louis. Louis Tomlinson.”

Nick clapped his hands and gave a sharp nod. “Excellent. We have a name for our criminal Tiny Tim. You can change the name on the chart, Harry. Gotta dash!”

He was out the door before Louis could muster his outrage at the moniker.

 

Louis bit his lip while Harry prepared the antiseptic and a new dressing. “I’m not.”

“Hm?”

“A criminal,” Louis clarified. “It’s... complicated.”

Harry looked up from cleaning the wound with a slight grin. “You can’t be a very _dangerous_ criminal, at least. The cop that’s supposed to be at your door has spent more time at the vending machine than at his post.”

Louis made a face. “I feel like I should be offended by that.”

Harry giggled as he smoothed the adhesive dressing strip in place, but when he crushed the wrapper in his hand his expression turned serious. “Whatever you’re mixed up in, though. _That’s_ dangerous. You were _stabbed_ , Louis.”

Louis looked at Harry with his mouth open in surprise.

Harry shook his head, and kept his head lowered as he turned to throw the wrapper in the bin. “Sorry. I know it’s none of my business,” he mumbled.

“It wasn’t like—” Louis sighed. “Do you know what the charges are?”

Harry peered at Louis from the foot of the bed. “No. They asked us for a drug test, but that’s all I know.”

Louis pulled the sheet up to his chin. “I don’t do drugs.”

“Yeah, you were clean.” Harry looked at him in concern. “Are you cold? I can get you a blanket.”

Louis shook his head. “Don’t I get a phone call or something?”

Harry shrugged. “Do you have a lawyer?”

Louis snorted. “No.”

“Then I’d just try to get some rest if I were you. They can’t do anything until you get released, and that won’t be until five or six days from now.”

Louis wrapped an arm around his middle, his whole body drooping all of a sudden. “You’re probably right. Thanks, Harry.”

“Is there anyone you want us to call?” Harry asked kindly.

“No. No one.”

Harry hesitated before patting the bed next to Louis’ feet. “They’ll bring you some broth and jello in a bit.” He paused again at the door. “And I’ll... I’ll be around. Bye, Louis!”

Louis dropped back against the pillow with a sigh. He stared up at the ceiling, fingers curled in a fist around the sheet.

“ _Shit_.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, trapping the tears in his eyelashes until he blinked and they rolled down his cheeks.

*

Louis was startled from his afternoon drowse by a loud thud and the rattle of the bedside cabinet, followed by a muttered curse. His hand went to his side as he woke up and squinted at the room around him. He frowned at a bright orange balloon floating by the side of his bed.

When he peered over the side of the bed he saw Harry in a crouch, mopping up a bit of spilled water with one hand and holding onto the string of the balloon with the other.

Louis bit his lip to stifle his laughter. “Harry?”

Harry looked up with a sheepish grin. “Oops.” He got to his feet and tossed the sodden napkins into the bin. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Louis gave a small shake of his head. “I wasn’t really sleeping.”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t!” Louis giggled at Harry’s skeptical expression. “It was more of a boredom-induced coma.”

Harry laughed. “I thought you might be bored. That’s why I brought you this.” He fastened the end of the string to the side handle of the bedside cabinet and gave the balloon a poke so that it bobbed, revealing its Jack-O-Lantern pattern. “Found it floating around. Must have escaped the party yesterday.”

Louis bit back a grin. “Thanks? Am I supposed to talk to it? Like Tom Hanks in that movie?”

Harry snorted and slapped his thigh when he laughed. “Yep. Winston the Second. But I should warn you... he’s a bit of an _airhead_.”

Louis groaned. “That was terrible. Just awful.”

Harry giggled. “Heeey. I went through a lot of trouble to sneak it in. Your guard today isn’t simpatico at all.”

Louis stared at Harry, not quite knowing what to make of him. “Thanks,” he said at last. “You didn’t have to.”

Harry ducked his head and turned to fiddle with the drip bag. “Anyway. How are you feeling?” he asked.

Louis shrugged.

Harry frowned a little. “Louis, you just went through a serious operation. Are you in pain? Are you nauseated? Have you been out of bed yet? They took the catheter out this morning, didn’t they?”

Louis scrunched his face up in an exaggerated wince, embarrassed. It made Harry laugh again, but not give up on his attentive nurse routine. He increased the rate of the analgesic drip when Louis confessed to having pain, and insisted on walking Louis over to the bathroom.

He lowered the height of the bed and helped Louis sit up. “Careful now.”

“I don’t even have to wee,” Louis groused as he got his feet.

Harry chuckled in his ear and kept a hand hovering over the small of his back while he rolled Louis’ IV stand next to them. “You’ll feel better after moving around. And tomorrow you can even take a shower.”

Louis peered up at him. “You’re not going to help me shower, are you?” he asked, his voice going high pitched.

Harry choked and went pink. “Um, I’m your nurse. But if you, erm, can manage on your own, then I’ll just stand outside in case you need help.”

“Right. I’m sure I’ll manage,” Louis said quickly.

After a short burst of nervous laughter, Harry schooled himself back into his professional mode. They did a short circuit of the room in silence, both focused on the floor, sneaking glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking. Until Harry tripped over the feet of the stand when Louis caught him looking at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Sorry!” Harry cringed. “Shit, did I pull anything?” He checked the IV and the tangle of tubes with his tongue between his teeth.

Louis’ mouth twitched. “Been doing this long, have you?”

Harry exhaled in a puff that was half a laugh as he helped Louis back to bed. “I started in August. So, three months today.” He scratched at a bit of peeling nail polish on his index finger, then twisted his finger in a nervous gesture. “I get my first evaluation this week.”

“Killed any patient by accident?” Louis asked as he settled back against the pillows.

A corner of Harry’s mouth lifted. “No.”

Louis patted his forearm. “You’re good then.”

Harry’s face broke into a wide smile. “Thanks, Louis.” He gave Louis’ ankle a squeeze as he moved toward the door. “Though you might just be my first victim...”

Louis shooed him away. “Don’t make me laugh, you maniac.”

Harry left the room in a fit of laughter, waving Louis goodbye.

*

“Hi! Just stopping to say hello real quick!” Harry came into the room struggling with a stack of binders and folders cradled in his arms. The shirt of his scrubs had ridden up, exposing his hip, and his bun was a mess, strands of hair flying every which way.

Louis botched up the folding of the miniature Origami frog he had been working on, his fingers slipping.

Harry smiled at Louis and set down the binders at the foot of the bed to pick up a paper frog from the handful scattered on Louis’ lap. “This one looks like it needs medical attention. I think it’s… legs? might be broken,” he teased.

Louis made to snatch the frog from Harry’s hand with a huff, but winced when it pulled at the stitches. “Idiot.” He took the frog when Harry handed it to him and gave it a few pats with one finger, while shaking his head at Harry. “How very dare you. Insulting Kevin! My firstborn!”

Harry gave a honk of laughter. “Sorry, how rude of me,” he said, failing to contain his grin. “How did this miracle happen, anyway?”

Louis tapped the notepad on his lap. “The nurse last night took pity on me. We bonded while I showered, so she taught me—what d’you call it—Origami.”

Harry smiled, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Um, so you showered already?”

“Yeah. I prefer to shower at night, so I asked her...”

“Right.” Harry stared at him for a beat—long enough to make Louis blush—before shaking his head as though to clear it and scrambling to scoop up the binders. “I should go. Or Bertha will have me checking colostomy bags all morning tomorrow.”

“That’s about pooh, right?”

“Yep.” Harry opened the door with some difficulty. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Louis offered him a lopsided grin. “I’ll be here.”

Harry ducked his head to hide behind the stack in his arms with a muffled groan of embarrassment and rushed out of the room.

*

Over the rest of his stay Louis amassed an army of paper frogs and something that were supposed to be crabs. He stuffed some into the bedside cabinet drawer and handed them out to every nursing assistant and hospital attendant who stepped into the room.

A lot of them went to Harry, however. As carrier pigeons, of a sort. Louis didn’t mean to start anything when he wrote 'there’s a brown stain on your shirt & i don’t think i want to know what it is _'_ on a piece of paper which he later folded into a crab and slipped into Harry’s pocket. But Harry must have got curious seeing that the paper was written on and unfolded it, because he came around the room again and assured Louis it was 'ketchup, but thanks for noticing’.

After that, Louis couldn’t help himself. He would write a question, or something silly that he hoped would make Harry laugh and fold it up and pass it on to him.

‘coffee or tea? say tea’ ( _of course tea!_ )

‘do you like football? can you play?’ ( _very much. not so much_ )

‘what’s your favourite song?’ ( _anything by Ed Sheeran_ )

‘do you have any siblings?’ ( _older sister_ )

‘do you ever wear your hair loose? ~~can i see?~~ ’ ( _yes. not at work, though_ )

‘you smell like peaches and soap’ ( _thanks. you smell like antiseptic. sorry_ )

‘congratulations! good job!’ (when Harry told him his evaluation had gone well)

Harry would pop his head in for a moment to answer, or hang around for a bit when he came to check on Louis, to get some answers out of him as well and ask questions of his own.

‘scones or biscuits?’ ( _scones_ )

‘do you watch American football?’ ( _what, no_ )

‘favourite musician or band?’ ( _Greenday_ )

‘you have really long eyelashes’ ( _thanks_ )

‘favourite color?’ ( _blue?_ )  
  
“Will you give me your number?”

The bit of jelly wobbled as Louis froze with the spoon half-way to his mouth when Harry burst into the room, out of his nursing scrubs, with a messenger bag swinging at his hip. His hair was windswept and his nose pink, as though he had been almost to the underground before he changed his mind and run back to the hospital.

“I thought you’d have left by now,” Louis said, setting down the plastic cup on the overbed table and tugging at the neck of his hospital gown in a nervous gesture.

Harry scratched at his upper arm over his long woolen coat and shifted from foot to foot in his brown suede boots.

“I was about to go. But, um, you’re getting released tomorrow, and I won’t be here 'cause I've got a couple of days off. And I wanted to—I thought maybe we could—Or if you need anything?” Harry rambled, still breathing a little too fast.

Louis ducked his head. “Maybe you should give me your number instead? I don’t actually know if I’ll get my phone back from the cops.”

“Oh. Right.” Harry bit his lip as he tore a page off the notepad and scribbled down his number. He folded the paper in half twice, then handed it to Louis after a moment of hesitation. “It was really nice meeting you, Louis.”

Louis held the paper to his chest. “You too,” he said softly.

Harry made an aborted movement toward Louis before pulling his hand back to grip the strap of his messenger bag. The paper crinkled under Louis’ fingers.

“Bye, Louis,” Harry said at the door with a weak smile.

Louis couldn’t quite muster a smile but he fought to keep the quiver out of his voice. “Bye, Harry.”

Dessert abandoned, Louis opened the folded piece of paper. Harry had written out the numbers in a large clear hand and his name: _Harry Styles_. And underneath that he’d drawn what Louis guessed was a small frog holding a balloon. It made Louis smile.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Louis was discharged. A hospital attendant brought him a worn red jumper that smelled like moth-repellent from the Lost and Found, since his shirt was unsalvegeable. The inside of his own jacket was stiff with dry blood. He was driven to the police station by a stone-faced cop who addressed Louis in grunts and lethargic hand signals.

Once at the station, he led Louis to an office cubicle and told him to sit down and wait. Louis trembled in his seat, rubbing his hands together, and jumped when the police officer came in and sat behind her desk.

“Are you cold, dear?” she asked him. “There’s a coffee machine right over there, if you like.” She pointed it out with a kind smile.

Louis shook his head with a feeble smile. “Thanks. I’m just nervous,” he admitted.

She introduced herself as Sergeant Watson, then she opened a folder and pulled out two sheets of paper which she handed to him. It was a charge sheet. Louis bit his nails as he read it. There was a charge for class A drug possession, with an addendum of suspicion of supply.

“Are the address and phone number listed correct?”

Louis looked down again to check the address. He shook his head. “Uh, no. I don’t live there anymore.”

Sergeant Watson adjusted the computer monitor. “What’s your current address?”

Louis bit his nails again. “I’m... kind of... between jobs, so I’m staying with friends.”

“So you’re not legally tenanted?”

“Um, no.”

“And unemployed?”

Louis nodded, his mouth dry.

Watson turned from the screen to look Louis over. “I’m going to give you the contact information for the Legal Aid office, and we’ll call you to let you know the date of your court hearing.”

She smiled at Louis when she handed him his requisitioned mobile.

“So I can go?” Louis asked for the second time even as he stood up from the chair.

Sergeant Watson pointed at the sheaf of papers he was holding. “One of those papers states the conditions of being released on bail. But essentially what it comes down to is that you can’t leave the country—not an issue since you don’t own a passport—and you have to report back to the police station on the set dates.”

Louis thanked her in a bit of a daze and left the station. He kept looking back over his shoulder until he’d walked enough distance that he could no longer see the building. He had to take two buses to get back to Tower Hamlets, sneaking in through the back because he didn’t have any cash, and he was hunched over with pain by the time he made it to flat.

When he opened the door, a teenaged girl in a towel screamed, and Louis was confronted by a family of six, shouting at him in broken English.

 

Olli, their landlord, did business in his cupboard of an office on the ground floor. “Sorry, mate. It’s been a week, and you and Zayn just disappeared—”

“I was in hospital!”

Olli clucked his tongue. “Ah. Everything all right?” He went on before Louis could answer. “The thing is you two disappeared with the rent due. You can’t blame me for thinking you had bailed on me.”

Louis shrugged. “Guess not.”

Olli stood up and clapped him on the back. “Tell you what, 5C is empty. You can stay there and pay me back what you owe me later.”

Louis sighed in resignation. “Thanks. Can you just get them out so I can fetch my stuff, please?”

Olli raised his eyebrows. “What stuff?”

 

After fifteen minutes of arguing, Olli managed to get the family to leave the flat for five minutes.

Louis was relieved to find what he was looking for in the space behind a plug socket that didn’t work: his phone charger and his wallet with his ID. Zayn’s stuff was still there: his phone charger and a small, cheap, Power Ranger figurine, so old the paint was peeling off. He found some of his clothes still in the closet and stuffed them into a backpack, then he got the money from behind the radiator. He left the one in the water tank, with a note for Zayn in case he came back.

 

5C was the building’s boiler room, with an added toilet and sink in the broom cupboard next door. Louis plugged his phone in the socket in the hall and sat on the bottom stair.

He called Zayn. It went to voicemail.

“Zee. It’s me. I’m... I’m OK. I hope you are too. Call me?” Louis’ voice shook. “Please?”

He rested his head against the wall with a sigh, pinching between his eyebrows in an attempt to rid himself of a pounding headache. The screaming match from the flat above was making it worse.

Louis wrapped his arms around himself against the cold—Olli hadn’t turned on the heating for the building yet. He felt the folded sheet of paper which he’d put in the pocket of his jacket when he left the hospital and pulled it out, smoothing it open on his lap.

After he added Harry to his contacts, he kept locking and unlocking his phone to Harry’s number, hovering over the dial button.

Louis’ thumb slipped and pressed dial.

“Shit.”

Louis fumbled with his phone trying to hang up, but a voice answered before he could. “Hello?”

He raised the phone to his ear. “Um. Hi. Harry? It’s, er, Louis. From the hospital.”

“Louis!” Harry sounded surprised, and Louis winced. “Are you all right? Not that something has to be wrong for you to call—”

“It was a mistake,” Louis mumbled, cutting Harry off. “I shouldn’t have—”

Harry made a sound of protest. “No, please. What do you need?”

There was a bang from the flat upstairs. Louis flinched. “A place to stay?” he whispered, hesitant.

Louis was aware of his heart beating too fast in his chest as he listened to Harry breathing on the other side.

Harry’s voice was gentle when he answered. “Yeah. Of course. You can stay at my place.” He didn’t give Louis a chance to even thank him. “I live in Clapham—I’ll text you the address and get the room ready for you.”

“Room?” Louis breathed, then shook his head. “Right. I don’t know how long I’m going to take—I have to figure out how to get there.”

“Louis, you just got out of hospital, you shouldn’t—” He could almost hear Harry frown. “Just tell me where you are, I’ll pick you up in my car.”

Louis chewed on his bottom lip, reaching for his wallet and making quick calculations. “I’ll just get a cab. You’re doing more than enough.”

 

Louis took a bus to shorten the distance and the expense, then a cab—although the cabbie had been reluctant to take him: ‘I don’t fancy havin’ to clean puke off the seats, lad.’

He spent the ride jerking awake when the car stopped and started at the red lights, and stumbled out of the cab half-asleep.

Louis looked around, peering into the dusk. Harry lived in an expensive looking block of flats near a park, still green even more than a month into autumn. A neighbour was going out and let Louis into the building, although he glanced back at Louis doubtfully as he walked off to his car.

There was a working lift and the whole place smelled of air freshener. Louis scrubbed his hand over his face and fixed his hair as best he could before ringing the doorbell to Harry’s flat.

The door opened to reveal Harry, wearing a simple white tee and joggers. He was bare foot and his hair was out of its bun.

“Hi! Welcome!” Harry’s smile faltered when he took in Louis’ bedraggled appearance. “Come in, please. If you want to take off your shoes?” He opened a small entrance closet with some rain boots and a couple of umbrellas.

Louis toed off his shoes and shoved them inside the closet.

“If you want you can have a shower and change into something more comfortable while I finish getting dinner ready?”

Louis turned around after hanging up his jacket, and felt himself smile in spite of his exhaustion. “Thanks... Curly.”

Harry raised a hand to the hair that fell over his shoulder with a huff of laughter. “Yeah. It’s a bit of a mess right now and I need a trim— ”

Louis shook his head. “I really like it. It suits you.”

Harry beamed, and gave Louis a quick tour of the flat. It had two bedrooms, a living room that was almost the size of the flat Louis had been living in, and a modern kitchen. The bathroom had an ample bathtub, and a glass shower enclosure.

 

Louis was under the warm water spray for fifteen minutes.

When he finally got out of the shower, he saw that Harry had set out some clothes for him on the guest room bed: loose pajama bottoms that were too long on him, and a long sleeved shirt that was also too big on him. The clothes smelled like detergent and drying machine instead of damp from having to dry out on the clothesline in constant rain.

Louis lay down over the covers and was on the verge of falling asleep when Harry called out that dinner was served.

 

Louis sat down at the kitchen table and stared, dumbfounded, at the spread Harry had set out.

“Is anyone else coming?” Louis asked.

Harry looked at him in confusion. “No. What would you like to drink?”

 

Louis gulped down half a glass of milk in one go, before stuffing enough bread in his mouth to make his cheeks bulge as he chewed.

“Did you put on a fresh dressing on after you showered?” Harry asked, sprinkling grated cheese over his bowl of tomato soup.

Louis hummed in assent, still chewing. Once he had swallowed, he started spooning soup into his mouth.

Harry watched with a slight frown as Louis ate—at high speed and with single-minded focus—but he didn’t comment on it.

 

“Dinner was good then?” Harry asked as he cleared the table.

Louis blinked up at him with a faint flush on his face. “Yeah. It was really good. Thanks, Harry.”

“No problem. There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal, right?”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Louis said with a humourless chuckle.

Harry buried his face in the dishtowel to hide his mortification. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Louis asked, as Harry pulled out some apple pie for dessert.

Harry kept his head lowered while cutting Louis a large slice of pie, and startled when their fingers brushed as Louis took the plate from him. He shrugged with a grimace. “I don’t know.”

This time when Louis chuckled it was genuine. “You’re really something else, Harry Styles.”

It made Harry giggle even as his face went pink. He glanced up at the clock, still smiling.

“Want to watch The Great British Bake Off?”

 

Louis followed Harry to the living room, but remained standing while Harry searched for the television remote.

“It’s Niall. Every time he comes over he leaves it somewhere different,” Harry explained when he found it hidden among the collection of DVDs, turning to Louis with a sheepish grin.

Louis’ shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “Is there a story behind that or is he just a little shit?”

“He’s a vindictive and petty is what he is,” Harry replied with a dark look, even as his mouth twitched in suppressed laughter.

Louis raised his eyebrows, smiling. “What did you _do_ , Harold?”

Harry plopped himself down on the couch. “Nothing!”

“I don’t believe that for a moment,” Louis teased.

Harry pouted, pretending to take offence, then giggled. “We shared a flat for a semester at uni. And we love each other but we didn’t get along as flatmates.”

“How come?” Louis asked, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“He didn’t like me lighting candles.”

It startled a laugh out of Louis. “What?”

Harry gave a solemn nod. “That was the final straw, really. The candles.”

“Did you almost burn down the flat or something?”

“No! Niall just really doesn’t like scented candles.”

Louis burst out laughing, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Harry stared at him with his lips parted and curling upward at the corners, distracted halfway through a grin.

“Harry, your show is starting,” Louis pointed out, blushing when he caught Harry staring at him.

Harry nodded absently, not quite managing to turn away from him to look at the television. “Right.”

Louis bit his lip and let himself slide from the arm to sit at the end of the couch. With a smile playing about his mouth, Harry finally settled back into the couch to watch the show.  
  
  
During the second round of adverts, Harry turned to Louis after some hesitation.

“Lou. You can put your feet up on the couch, you know. You look kind of uncomfortable.”

Louis blinked at Harry drowsily. “You sure?”

Harry pulled at the blanket draped over the back of the couch and offered it to Louis, who accepted it with an uncertain smile. He peered at Harry over the edge of the blanket, knees drawn up to his chest.

“Why are you being so nice?” Louis asked, sounding puzzled.

“I just want you to feel comfortable. Here. With me,” Harry said simply.

They stared at each other without speaking for a minute while the television played in the background. Then, without a word, Louis burrowed deeper beneath the blanket and settled back into the couch, so that Harry couldn’t see his expression.

Bewildered, Harry eventually turned back to the television screen.

When the show ended almost an hour later, he reached for the remote. “Want to see if there’s something else?”

Looking over at Louis, he realized he’d fallen asleep. Harry bit his lip at the sight of him, and sat in front of the TV for another hour, sneaking glances, before finally getting up to wake him, shaking his shoulder gently.

Louis snuffled and curled up tighter but didn’t wake up.

Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Louis,” he called softly.

Louis’ eyelids were heavy as he blinked awake, and Harry was momentarily transfixed by the slow sweep of his lashes, dark and thick in the dim light.

“Did I...?” Louis mumbled.

“You fell asleep,” Harry confirmed. “During the soufflé challenge—I don’t know how you managed it.”

Louis gave a soft giggle, eyes half closed. “Sorry, love. ‘m tired.”

Harry let his hand smooth down the bit of Louis’ back that was turned outward, giving him a gentle rub. “I know, Louis. C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

He helped Louis to his feet, taking half his weight with an arm around his waist on the way to the guest room.

“‘m sorry,” Louis repeated in a slurred voice, half-asleep, while Harry led him to the bed.

“What for?” Harry asked, confused.

Louis crawled into bed and pulled up the covers to his chin. “Fallin’ asleep. Keepin’ you awake.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But there’s nothing to apologize for,” Harry whispered, bemused.

Louis hummed, eyes closed. “‘s a nice bed.”

Harry smiled. “G’night, Louis.”

“‘Night,” Louis mumbled.

 

Louis woke up the next morning feeling so comfortable and warm he turned around and went back to sleep. When he woke up again a half hour later, he padded to the kitchen after a quick visit to the bathroom, following the smell of sizzling bacon.

Harry gave a little wave with the wooden spoon he was using to stir the scrambled eggs. “I don’t know what you usually like for breakfast. I hope this is alright? Eggs and bacon. Beans on toast. It’s almost noon, so I thought we’d do brunch.”

Louis hovered by the door, staring at Harry in amazement. “You made me breakfast?”

“Sure. I’ve got cereal if you prefer... I _think_ I’ve got some cereal, although it might be a bit stale.”

Louis shook his head, dazed. “This is... good. Thanks.”

Harry smiled at him brightly before turning back to the frying pan.

Louis stood at the door watching Harry's back as he cooked. After a couple of minutes, he sidled over to him, reaching out to rest his hand just above Harry’s elbow as he peered at the frying pan around his arm. “What are those green things?”

Harry was careful not to displace Louis’ hand. “Bell peppers.”

“Quirky,” Louis said, giving Harry’s arm a little squeeze before stepping away. “I’ll set the table, yeah?”

Harry grinned at him. “Perfect.”

*

Louis stood with a mug of tea cradled in both hands, leaning against the kitchen counter while Harry flitted around, grabbing a banana and a granola bar from the cupboard and stuffing it in his messenger bag.

Harry glanced at the clock and grimaced. “Shit, I’m so late. I hit snooze like ten times.”

“Sorry,” Louis said with a sheepish smile.

Harry laughed as he tied his scarf around his neck. “You didn’t force me to stay up playing FIFA.”

“Guess not. You’re just really competitive. It’s kind of scary, actually.”

Louis giggled when Harry stuck his tongue out at him. He followed Harry to the entrance hall. “Better grab an umbrella.”

A wide smile spread across Harry’s face as he slipped a beanie on his head. “Thanks. I’ll stop by the shop when I get out of work and get you some cereal. Cocoa Puffs, right?”

Louis scrunched his nose. “You don’t have to, Harry, honest. I was just talking shit. I liked it when I was a kid, I might not even like it anymore—”

“Only one way to find out.” Harry reached for the doorknob just as a key turned in the lock.

“What are you still doing here, mate?”

Louis held the mug of tea to his chest as the door opened and Harry was pulled into a hug by his friend with the Irish accent.

Harry fixed his beanie, pulling it down over his ears. “I overslept—”

“ _Oh_?” Niall interrupted, raising an eyebrow and shooting Louis a grin.

“ _Niall._ ” Harry gave a subtle shake of his head, eyes wide in warning.

Niall laughed as he kicked off his shoes. “Sorry. It’s too early to be awake on a Sunday.” He sniffed the air with a furrowed brow. “And you didn’t even make breakfast, did you?”

Harry put a foot out the door. “No time. You can make some French toast for you and Louis.” He met Louis’ eyes. “See you this afternoon, Lou.”

Louis’ face lit up at the nickname. “Have a good day at work.”

“Bye, Niall!” Harry called as he rushed down the corridor and disappeared around the corner. Niall closed the door to the sound of Harry running down the stairs and turned to Louis with a grin.

*

Louis squinted at the television screen as he woke up from his nap. The empty pizza box was still on the table, and Niall kept the lid from falling closed, nudging it open with his foot, toe wiggling in its colorful striped sock.

“How is this still going on?” Louis groaned, when he saw the golf tournament hadn’t ended.

“Oi! That’s one of the best golfers in the world,” Niall said with a bark of laughter, chucking Louis a gummy bear from the bag resting on his stomach.

“Niall, I watched a blank screen for hours at the hospital and it wasn’t as boring as this.”

Niall burst into loud peals of laughter. “Go back to sleep! You can watch whatever you want all day tomorrow.”

Louis sat up a little straighter. “What d’you mean?”

“Harry and I both work, so you’ll be alone at the flat, won’t you?” Niall unglued his eyes from the television screen at Louis’ silence. “You don’t need a babysitter, do you?” he asked, with a tentative grin.

Louis bit the head off the gummy bear Niall had thrown at him. “He’s going to leave me alone in his flat?”

Niall cocked his head at him. “Yeah. Unless this is you telling me you’re going to wreck the place or something?”

Louis threw a cushion at Niall’s head. “Of course not.”

“Good. Then that’s that,” Niall said, stuffing the cushion behind his head and going back to watching the golf tournament.

 

Later that evening, after seeing Niall to the door, Harry came back to the kitchen to find Louis perched on the kitchen counter.

“How did you get up there? You’re not supposed to strain yourself.”

Louis rolled his eyes and pointed at step stool.

Harry laughed. “I’d forgotten I had that. I never have to use it.”

Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry in mock indignation. “Just what are you saying, Harold?”

Harry grinned wide as he squirted soap onto the dish sponge. “Nothing at all.”

Louis harrumphed, then his face scrunched into a crinkly-eyed smile. He took a clean plate from Harry and stuck it in the dish drainer. “So how do you and Niall know each other? You work at the hospital together?”

“Yeah, he’s a medical lab technician, but we actually met at uni; we had biochem together in our first year and we’ve been friends since.”

“Did he ever trick you into watching golf with him? How much of your youth did he take from you, Harry? You can tell me, it’s all right.”

Harry burst out laughing, doubling over and getting soap on the front of his shirt as a dish slipped from his hands into the sink, splashing him. Louis watched Harry with a fond smile on his face.

“I called Niall so you wouldn’t be bored,” Harry said, shaking his head, still grinning.

Louis reached over to push back a bit of hair that was bothering Harry, who had been trying to get it out of his face with the back of his hand and just succeeding in getting soap foam on his forehead. “I had a good time with him. He’s a decent babysitter.”

Harry smiled at him, but his eyes were serious. “Um, Niall mentioned... what you said, about staying alone at the flat.”

“Oh?”

Harry nodded. “And I don’t... I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you.”

Louis made a small incredulous noise. “But you shouldn’t!”

Harry’s brow furrowed as he dried his hands. “I shouldn’t?”

Louis gave a shrug. “Most people wouldn’t considering how we met.”

“Well, I do,” Harry said, stepping closer to Louis to stand almost between his legs and putting a hand on his knee.

Louis stared at Harry. “That’s... good,” he breathed. “Thank you.”

Harry squeezed his knee. “You’re welcome.”

*

Harry brought the tips of his fingers to his lips, brow furrowed as he contemplated the letter tiles on his rack. He was sitting on the floor and Louis on the couch, the game board on the coffee table between them.

“Tick tock, tick tock” Louis sing-songed, giving the hourglass timer a shake.

Harry shushed him, flapping a hand at him, with his eyes still trained on the tiles.

“You really take this game seriously,” Louis said, half-laughing.

Harry set down his word with a triumphant ‘aha’, then grinned at Louis. “It’s a bit of a family tradition, Scrabble. But if you think I’m bad, you should see my sister, she goes insane.”

“Scary.” Louis pretended to shudder to make Harry laugh, then chuckled as he set down his tiles on the board. “It’s a bit of a relief, actually. I mean, I thought I’d be bad, but it’s also that you’re a Scrabble fanatic or something.”

“Or something,” Harry echoed with a giggle. “There’s a lot of tricks, like, for the Qs and Zs, and stuff. I’ll teach you.” After he had set out his next word, however, he looked up at Louis with a slight frown. “You’re doing really well, though. Why would you think you’d be terrible?”

Louis hemmed and hawed before answering. “I’ve never been great at spelling. I, erm, moved around a lot as a kid, so it was, um, it was hard keeping up with school.”

Harry didn’t even glance at the hourglass timer although it was his turn again. “I can imagine. I had it easy because my mum would find me a tutor whenever I started in a new school, but moving is tough. How come you moved so much?”

Louis raised a hand to his mouth and bit the nail of his thumb as he gave a small shrug. “Family stuff. You?”

Harry looked as though he wanted to ask what that meant, but decided against it after taking in Louis’ tense posture. “My mum’s in Diplomatic Services.”

“That sounds neat.”

Harry leaned back on his hands, stretching out his legs under the coffee table. “I got to travel a lot, so it wasn’t all bad.” He inhaled and let out his breath in a long sigh. “But I really hated having to leave everyone behind all the time, and having... having people forget you. It’s hard to keep up long-distance friendships as a kid.”

Louis made a sympathetic sound. “You were lonely,” he said, not really a question.

Harry nodded. “I had Gems and mum. But I didn’t want to get close to anyone, knowing it wasn’t going to last.”

“Yeah, I get that,” Louis said quietly.

There was a stretch of silence before Harry laughed under his breath. “Or that’s what I tell myself. I was a bit of an odd duck, maybe that’s why I never really connected with anyone. People think I’m weird.”

Louis made a face, and shook his head. “You’re not weird. You’re... quirky. But in a good way.” He bit his lip and faltered, unable to look away from Harry, whose smile had widened with every word out of Louis‘ mouth. “I don’t think anyone can _not_ like you,” he finished, voice trailing off.

Harry’s face contorted as he tried to check his grin. “There’s something you don’t know about me, though.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, a smile on his lips. “Oh?”

Harry scrambled off the floor, hitting his knee on the coffee table as he regained his feet, and limped off to his bedroom with a breathless, “Just a sec.”

Louis stared at Harry as he came back to the living room with an armful of what looked like photo albums.

Harry sat down next to Louis. “I’m a scrapbooker,” he announced.

Louis glanced at Harry, bemused, then took a book from Harry and opened it on his lap. He flipped through a few pages, fingers reaching out to trace the outline of a velvet flower shape.

“This is sick, Harry,” he said, giving Harry’s wrist a gentle squeeze. “You put so much work into it. It’s brilliant.”

“Thanks.” Harry ducked his head, grinning. His expression turned thoughtful as he watched Louis flip a few more pages. “Some people think it’s a waste of time, but these are memories that are really dear to me.”

Louis’ smile was soft when he looked at Harry. “Will you tell me about them?” he asked, his thumb smoothing over the soft skin on the inside of Harry’s wrist in a thoughtless gesture.

“Of course, yeah,” Harry answered, sounding out of breath.

*

Louis stretched out on the couch, leaning back on a throw pillow, a blanket over his legs and laptop on his lap. He squinted at the screen with a small frown and the tip of his tongue between his teeth, following the lines of a street map with his finger.

“Are you sure you don’t need glasses?” Harry teased as he came back into the living room from the kitchen and caught him at it.

“Very funny, Harold.” Louis scrunched up his nose at him while Harry giggled. “I’m actually trying to figure out how to get to this place, but I’m clearly an idiot who can’t read a map.”

Harry went up to Louis and sat on the armrest, peering over him to see the laptop screen. “Maps are hard. Where are you trying to go?”

“It’s where I’m supposed to meet up with the lawyer from the PDS.”

“Hm.” Harry braced himself with one hand on the back of the couch and reached around Louis with the other to use the touchpad. Harry was so close his hair spilled over Louis’ shoulder, tickling his neck.

Louis cleared his throat, but remained carefully still. “There’s a bus, I think.”

Harry made a sound of recognition. “This isn’t far from the hospital, actually. I can pick you up on my lunch break and drive you back to the flat, if you want.”

Louis tilted his head up to look at Harry upside down, with a small frown. “You don’t have to do that. I can take the bus.”

When Harry looked down at him their faces were inches apart, curtained by Harry's hair at either side.

Louis made a involuntary, high pitched noise of alarm, and Harry straightened and got to his feet at once.

“Sorry,” Harry gasped, mortified.

Louis sat up a little. “It’s fine,” he said quickly.

Harry went to sit on the other couch, face pink, hands sandwiched between his thighs. “I don’t mind driving you home. It’s nice to get out the hospital.”

“OK. Thanks.”

Louis opened and closed a few tabs on the browser, sneaking glances at Harry who had buried his face behind a book. He brought a hand up to his mouth, biting his nails as he gave Harry a contemplative look.

“Aren’t you going to ask, though?”

Harry took a moment to lower his book. “Ask you what?”

“What I did. Why I need a lawyer.”

Harry’s posture relaxed. “I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Louis stared at him, incredulous. “I don’t understand how you can be so—”

“I trust you,” Harry interjected, face open and sincere. “I don’t think I have any reason not to.”

Louis frowned. “You could be wrong.”

Harry shrugged. “I could be wrong. But I don’t think I am.”

Louis turned his attention back to the blank tab open on the screen, pulling at a bit of peeling skin on his lower lip.

It was a minute before Harry spoke up. “So... are you going to tell me?”

Louis turned to him, raising his eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t care?” he said, teasing.

Harry pretended to glare at him, though he couldn’t hold the expression once Louis started giggling.

They smiled at each other, still filled with laughter.

“I was thinking we could go out to dinner and a movie on Friday?” Harry said, a little too fast so that he stumbled over the words. “If you want?”

Louis bit his lip, his smile fading. “I should... I should tell you what happened first.”

Harry sobered up as well. “All right.”

“A friend of mine was, um, he was dealing drugs.”

Louis paused, looking at Harry askance, but Harry’s expression didn’t change from its honest attentiveness.

“He had a meeting with a supplier and I went with him. I wasn’t—I didn’t like him dealing. But it was late, and he didn’t know the guy... and I didn’t want him to go alone. It was fine until this gang showed up. They wanted the drugs. There was a fight and one of them...”

Louis’ voice faltered.

“One of them stabbed you,” Harry supplied, voice quiet.

“Yeah.” Louis managed a weak chuckle. “Then the police turned up. So we ran.”

Harry winced. “I can’t imagine you made it very far with a haemorrhaging spleen.”

Louis’ lips quirked. “A couple of streets.”

Harry made a sympathetic face.

Louis sighed. “So the coppers caught me and took me to hospital. And then...” He looked at Harry with a soft, almost wondering expression. “Then I met you.”

Harry stared at Louis, transfixed, mouth a little open, then stammered something unintelligible.

“Sorry?”

Harry shook his head, face twisted in embarrassment. “Nothing. Sorry.”

Louis drummed his fingers on the laptop. “No questions? No comment?” he asked, unable to hide his trepidation.

“What happened to your friend?”

“He... kept running.”

Harry frowned. “Oh.”

“No. I get it,” Louis said quickly. “He took most of the drugs with him. If we’d been caught with all that we’d both be in prison right now.”

Harry kept silent for a moment, expression thoughtful. “Have you talked to him since? He must have been worried about you.”

“I called him but he didn’t... he didn’t answer,” Louis replied, almost inaudible.

Harry’s frown deepened. “Oh.”

Louis didn’t take his eyes off Harry. “Well. Now you know.”

Harry nodded. “Now I know. Thank you for telling me.”

Neither of them said anything, but Harry frowned at the palpable tension in Louis’ body. He pulled at his bottom lip, brow furrowed in thought.

“That night must have been scary. D’you want to talk about it some more?” Harry said, slow and unsure.

Louis looked up in surprise. “No. It’s not that—”

“Then what is it?” Harry asked in confusion.

Louis started picking at his lip again. “Aren’t you—Doesn’t it bother you?”

Harry blinked in surprise. “I could guess it was something of the sort, to be honest. And it’s not like you’re a murderer... you’re not even a proper drug dealer, really.”

There was a faint breath of laughter from Louis at that.

Harry’s mouth curved into a small, encouraging smile. “People do what they need to do in difficult circumstances. And this... this doesn’t change anything, Lou.”

A small, hesitant smile spread on Louis’ face. “OK.”

*

The small office looked like it belonged in the seventies, with its sepia color scheme and its chairs upholstered in beige tweed. Louis ran a hand through his hair, unsticking his fringe from his sweaty forehead, and let out a sigh.  

He picked up a paper weight in the shape of a dog from the desk and turned it round and round in his hands while he waited.

There was a thud that made the umber colored shutters rattle, before the door creaked open and a young man with a suitcase and a cumbersome gym bag squeezed through.

“Good afternoon,” he puffed, jostling Louis in his seat and dragging the other chair two feet across the floor before he managed to disentangle himself from it, as he made his way behind the desk. After throwing his bag on the floor and setting his suitcase down, he stretched out his hand, retracted it to wipe it on the front of his trousers, and offered it again for Louis to shake.

“ _You’re_ my lawyer?” Louis asked, after shaking hands.

The man gave a sharp nod and scratched the stubble on his chin and neck, fidgeting as he stood. “My name is Liam Payne. I’m an advocate with the Public Defender Service and I’ve been assigned to review your case and offer my expertise as counselor—”

“What expertise? How old are you, mate?” Louis interrupted his recitation.

Liam cleared his throat. “Um, that’s not really... That’s not important, Mr. Tomlinson.”

Louis groaned. “Please, don’t call me that.” He placed the paper weight back on the desk and stood up. “Can we talk somewhere else?”

“What?” Liam asked, brows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s too hot in here. They’ve got the heating on at full blast, don’t they? Bloody hell.”

Liam rubbed the back of his neck and opened his mouth, but Louis cut him off, “Look! You’re sweating too. You must be boiling in that suit.”

Liam quickly brought his arm down against his body, red in the face. A second later he sighed and tugged at his tie, loosening it around his neck. “I’ve changed my shirt twice already,” he admitted with a sigh.

“And I feel sick, so let’s get out of here,” Louis replied.

“We’re not really supposed to,” Liam mumbled, even as he grabbed his suitcase and followed Louis out the door.

 

They ended up at a coffee shop around the corner, where they sat for a little less than an hour discussing Louis’ legal situation before veering into the prospects of Arsenal and Newcastle United in the league.

The little bell tinkled as the door opened; Louis smiled when he saw Harry walk in, bundled in his coat, and waved him over to their booth.

Harry sat down next to Louis, his arm around the back of the seat, so that his fingers brushed against Louis’ upper arm. “Hi. Nice office this.”

Liam let out a huff of laughter. “Cheers. It was hellish in the office, and Louis was… very convincing,” he said with a sheepish smile.

Harry’s mouth curled, the dimple on his cheek pronounced. “Yeah, he’s hard to resist.”

Liam smiled at them, but Louis choked, all too aware of where his and Harry’s thighs and sides were touching, and how if he leaned just a little bit closer they would lock together like puzzle pieces.

“Liam didn’t need much convincing, don’t let him fool you,” he said after a moment, flicking the wrapper from a sugar packet at Liam.

Harry chuckled, and slid out of the booth. “I’m gonna grab a coffee for the ride back. You want anything else, Lou?” he asked, resting his hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“Liam?”

Liam shook his head. When Louis looked up at Harry, he couldn’t resist reaching out to fix the collar of his coat. “No, thanks, love.”

“OK. Meet you at the door? I’ve got the car parked close.” Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze before walking off to order at the bar.

Louis gathered his jacket and the papers Liam had given him while Liam slipped into his coat.

“Your boyfriend seems nice,” Liam said casually, holding the door open for Louis. “I didn’t catch his name?”

“It’s Harry, but he’s not…” Louis faltered. “He’s just a friend.”

“Really?” Liam exclaimed, round-eyed, then winced. “Shit, sorry. That’s out of line. Pretend I didn’t say anything, please.”

 

After saying goodbye to Liam, Harry led Louis over to the car, a compact cruiser of a recent model. Louis relaxed in the passenger seat, contemplating Harry’s profile as he started the car and joined the cars queuing up to take the main road.

Harry glanced at him, fighting back a smile as he caught Louis looking at him. “How did it go, then?”

Louis explained what Liam had told him. “He said I’m bound to get only a few weeks of community service if I plead guilty to the charges of possession, because it was a small amount, and it’s just weed, and I don’t have previous offences. The other charges—the suspicions of ‘intent to supply’—can be postponed because there’s not enough evidence, and it can be months before the case goes to court.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad? It’ll give you time to prepare your defence.”

Louis made a small sound of agreement, and looked down at his phone, checking his call log, which was a list of unanswered calls to Zayn’s number.

 

It wasn’t long before they reached the flat, and Harry double parked in the street in front.

“Take the chicken out of the freezer for dinner?” Harry said, pulling a key out from the depths of the pocket of his jeans and pressing it into Louis’ hand.

“What is this?”

“Spare key.”

The edges of the key dug into Louis’ palm as he held it tight in his fist. “I should—I’ve been squatting at your place for two weeks and now you’re giving me a key and I don’t know how to pay you back,” he said in a rush.

Harry frowned. “You don’t have to pay me back, Louis. You need a chance to get on your feet—there’s nothing wrong with that—and I want to help you. But you don’t owe me anything, all right?”

“Right.” Louis bit his lip, and lunged forward to give Harry a hug over the console. Harry oomphed and spread the palm of one hand on Louis’ back, holding him close, while Louis threw his arms around his neck.

Louis pulled back and reached for the door handle. “See you tonight." He was out of the car and slamming the door shut behind him before Harry could say a word. 

*

“I don’t think they expect me to turn up in, like, Armani, Harry,” Louis said with a snort, sorting through a pile of shirts to find one his size. “It’s court ordered community service.”

“I know, but—” Harry got cut off as he squeezed himself against the shelving to let a shop assistant pass.

“I’m not letting you buy me any clothes,” Louis said firmly, shoving the shirt he’d picked out of the pile at Harry. “I’ve got enough for what I need. I’ll even buy _you_ that shirt you were ogling.”

Harry let out a honk of laughter, hugging the armful of clothes to his chest with both hands. “Which one? The one with the geometric tigers, or the one with the lace, or the blue one with the stripes?"

Louis’ face scrunched up when he smiled. “You should try all of them on. And I’ll decide which one to get you,” he said, pulling Harry’s beanie over his forehead and down to his nose.

Harry burst into giggles, pushing the beanie back and then going after Louis, who danced out of reach, shaking with silent laughter.

It took Harry a moment to process that the vibration in his pocket was his phone ringing since he couldn’t hear it over the music of the store, and distracted as he was by Louis peeping out between the clothing racks.

Harry contorted himself trying to fish the phone out of his back pocket without dropping anything. “My phone’s ringing!” he explained to Louis, who rushed forward to help him.

 

Harry left the store to take the call, and Louis wandered off while he waited. He picked up a pack of hair ties in shades of pink for Harry, with a shrug after checking the price, and wandered off into the kids section to coo at the miniature socks and the baby animal onesies.

It wasn’t fifteen minutes before he heard Harry calling his name, and he waved at Harry whose face relaxed from its worried frown when he saw him.

Harry took the pile of clothes from him and poured it into a shopping basket he’d picked up from the entrance. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Lou,” Harry gasped. “It’s just my mum’s calling from Peru, so I had to take it.”

“It’s fine, love.”

Louis wavered but in the end let his hand settle on Harry’s back as they walked to the fitting rooms.

“I love baby clothes,” Harry remarked. “Babies, in general.”

Louis smiled, letting his fingers curl a little around Harry’s waist. “Me too. I used to babysit for some neighbours and I loved it.”

Harry’s answering grin made Louis’ fingers tighten around his waist before he let go, jumping at the chance to slip into the changing room while Harry was delayed in the queue.

“Lou?” Harry called, a minute after.

“Be out in a minute,” Louis called, but he didn’t pull the curtain open until he’d tried on the clothes.

When he was done, he found Harry sitting in the stall opposite, shirts clutched to his chest and a pout on his face as he stared off into the distance.

Louis bit back a smile at the sight of him. “What are you doing?”

Harry jumped up. “Waiting for you. I thought you’d let me see you.”

Louis took the shirts from him and sat on one of the seats in the common area between the two rows of stalls. “Are you going to put on a fashion show then?” Louis teased, ignoring the second part of what Harry had said.

Harry gave a casual nod and pulled his jumper over his head in one fluid movement, making Louis’ breath catch in his throat as he stared at Harry’s bare chest, with its smooth pale skin and rippling muscle.

Louis shifted his own selection of clothes onto his lap as he sat and watched Harry trying on the different shirts, doing his best to keep up with their conversation.

“I think I like this one the best,” Harry pronounced, looking at himself in the mirror. He had left most of the buttons undone so that the shirt gaped, showing off his chest. “What do you think?”

Louis licked his lips. “It... It looks good.”

Harry shook out his hair, throwing his head back afterward so that his hair tumbled over his shoulders and the long line of his neck was exposed.

Louis drew his bottom lip between his teeth at the sight.

 

“Thanks for letting me buy you that grey jumper,” Harry said with a grin as they were leaving.

Louis bumped their shoulders together. “You cheated. You have to know it’s impossible to say ‘no’ to you when you make that face.”

Harry clasped his hands in front of his mouth through his fit of giggles. “I couldn’t let you leave without it.”

“You didn’t even see me in it!” Louis argued, laughing.

“But I can—”

Harry was interrupted by the blare of the alarm system, which went off the moment Louis stepped through the exit gates.

Louis stopped dead. He stood stock still as the security guard ambled over with a bored expression on his face. “Need to check your bags, please.”

Louis opened the bags wordlessly.

The guard gave a cursory glance inside. “Right. Sorry about that. G’day.”

Once the guard turned his back, Louis staggered to a side, a white-knuckled grip on the shopping bags.

Harry peered up at the upper level of the shopping centre. “I’m having trouble finding a birthday gift for my sister. Do you mind if we...”

He trailed off when he caught sight of Louis.

“I didn’t steal anything,” Louis said tightly.

Harry’s forehead creased in confusion. “I know. Sometimes the alarms go off randomly.”

Mouth pursed, Louis started walking toward the escalator, stiff-legged, leaving Harry to follow.

“Louis—”

“I don’t steal,” Louis said abruptly when they got on the escalator, turning around to look at Harry from the step above him.

“Right,” Harry said, taken aback.

Louis jaw worked for a moment before he spoke, voice a little shrill. “But people steal sometimes... when they’re hungry. Because they need to eat. And that’s not wrong—it’s _not_.”

“I don’t think it is, Lou,” Harry said honestly, making sure to meet Louis’ eyes.

Louis held his gaze for a moment before ducking his head. “Well. Good.”

 *

Louis put a hand to his side, under his shirt, feeling the raised scar, still a little tender. He tapped his foot against the linoleum floor of the waiting room, his trainers squeaking, while he rolled up a leaflet on drug rehabilitation and then let it unfurl— over and over again.

“Tomlinson, Louis.”

Louis jumped to his feet when he heard his name called. The kid who had gone in before him nodded at him as he passed, rolling his eyes in the direction of the office with the neat little placard that read Ann-Marie Thomson: Manager. After the virtual hearing in which he’d been sentenced to community service, he’d received notice to present himself before his ‘offender manager’ to get his assignment.

“Close the door and take a seat.”

The woman didn’t even look up from the computer in front of her and her voice was bored. She kept Louis waiting after he sat down while she texted someone on her phone. After a couple of minutes she turned back to the monitor with a long-suffering sigh, and Louis watched her eyes flit back and forth as she read something, her nose scrunched in distaste.

“You didn’t pass your A-levels?” she asked.

“I didn’t take them,” Louis amended, pulling at the bottom hem of his jumper and wishing he’d worn something he felt more comfortable in instead of trying to impress.

She raised a disdainful eyebrow. “Well, that narrows down your options, you understand. Not that it’s unusual in your... class. Uneducated lot.”

Louis gave a bark of humorless, incredulous laughter. “A pack of dirty street rats, yeah.”

The woman offered him a thin smile and gave him a once over. “No heavy lifting for you either, I suppose. Bit scrawny. Do you think you can manage a paint roller?”

Louis glowered at her. “I reckon.”

She didn’t acknowledge his response, ignoring him until she printed out a sheet a few minutes later and passed it to him, holding it with two long-fingered nails.

“The details of your assignment. Leave the door open behind you.”

Louis had to resist the urge to bang the door shut behind him.

 *

Louis squinted down at his fluorescent vest with a pursed mouth, holding his breath against the powerful smell coming from the products they had been given to remove the graffiti.

“Aren’t we supposed to get proper masks for this?” A middle aged man with a huge beard growled to a chorus of agreement.

The monitor sighed. “Those masks are just fine, sir. Now get back to work, please.”

Louis adjusted the strap of his goggles and reached for the cleaning rag.

*

Harry looked up from where he was reading on the couch when he heard the door to the flat open and close. Louis came into the living room, dragging his feet and sniffling, and dropped face first onto the couch.

Harry put his book down with a frown. “Lou?”

Louis mumbled something unintelligible, face still buried in a cushion. Harry went over and knelt at the side of the couch, hesitating for a moment before resting a  
hand between Louis’ shoulder blades, rubbing up to the top of his spine and down to the small of his back. Louis sighed, but neither said anything for a while as Harry gave him a gentle back-rub.

“How about an early dinner and a film, hm?” Harry suggested, voice soft.

Louis raised himself on his elbows and turned to look at Harry at last: his eyes were red-rimmed and his nostrils pink with irritation.

Without thinking, Harry cupped Louis’ face. “Shit, Louis.”

“Ssh,” Louis rasped, a crease between his eyebrows, “I’ve got the worst headache, Hazza.”

Harry smoothed his thumb over Louis’ jaw. “Of course you do—I’m pretty sure you’ve got chemical poisoning.”

Louis hummed and let his head fall back onto the cushion, closing his eyes.

Harry checked his temperature with a hand on his forehead. “I’m going to put on the kettle and I’m going to make you some stew.”

Louis squinted at Harry. “You don’t have to do that, Harry. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”

Harry smoothed the hair back from Louis’ face and squeezed the back of his neck.

“You’re fine. But why don’t you take a nice warm shower while I make dinner. You can change into something more comfortable?”

Louis sniffled. “All right.” 

 

Harry brought their dinner over to the guest room and they ate sitting up against the headboard while they watched a film on Harry’s laptop. Harry stacked up their bowls and set them on the bedside table when they were done, and Louis found himself moving closer until Harry wound his arm around him and pulled him against his side.

“I should put those in the sink. Do you want anything else? Niall brought me some banana muffins, leftover from someone’s birthday at the lab.”

“Don’t.” Louis held onto a fistful of Harry’s shirt when Harry started to get up. “I’ll do the washing up tomorrow.”

“No you won’t,” Harry said with a chuckle. But he moved the laptop to the foot of the bed and scooted down to a more horizontal position, pulling Louis down with him so that they were cuddling.

Louis peered up at Harry, watching the play of light from the screen on his face. He opened his mouth to speak but held back twice before he pressed his knuckles to the softness just above Harry’s hip to get his attention.

“There was this mural today that made me think of you,” Louis said when Harry looked at him curiously. “I took a picture before they painted over it.”

Louis reached for his mobile and pulled up the picture to show Harry, but instead of taking the phone from him, Harry wrapped his hand around Louis’ to raise the phone to his face.

“It was beautiful,” Harry said with a sigh, after a long look at the picture. His arm tightened a little around Louis. “I actually really like street art. It’s sad that some of it is misunderstood as vandalism.”

Louis nodded. “I was scrubbing out a bunch of scribbles on a staircase, but some of it is amazing. Zayn painted this really sick—” Louis broke off.

“Zayn?”

Louis cleared his throat. “He’s my best friend. We kind of grew up together.” He fit his finger through a hole in Harry’s shirt absently. “We were put in the same foster home when we were twelve. And we… we watched out for each other.”

“You were raised in foster care? Is that why you moved around so much?” Harry asked in a hushed voice.

Louis nodded. “I went through, um, several families, since I was four, but it didn’t work out. Until Simon.” He tugged with his finger, widening the hole as the worn fabric stretched. “Simon wasn’t very nice,” he said in a rushed, quiet breath.

Harry stilled his hand, fingers wrapping around his wrist, rubbing a soothing circle with his thumb, while Louis breathed in and out, a little too fast.

“I’m sorry Simon wasn’t very nice,” Harry whispered once Louis’ breathing returned to normal. “Thank you for telling me about your friend, because he clearly means a lot to you. I’m here for you if you ever want to talk, about anything.”

Louis gave a tight nod, tucking his face under Harry’s chin.

 

“Do you think if you talked to your manager she’d change your assignment?” Harry asked a little later, out of the blue, startling Louis. “You can’t go on like this for months.”

Louis scoffed. “She’ll probably tell me it’s less trouble for me to just go to prison.”

Harry frowned. “What about Liam? She’ll listen to him, won’t she? This is a matter of health, and he’s your lawyer.”

“Maybe. Or maybe she’ll bite his head off. Liam’s not very intimidating, is he?”

Harry’s expression was thoughtful. “I don’t know. I think he might surprise you. I’ll talk to him.”

Louis sat up, though he kept a hand on Harry’s chest. “You do that. But I don’t know what kind of work you expect her to give me. It’s a punishment, innit? It’s not supposed to be pleasant.”

Harry shrugged. “It’s not supposed to make you sick either. It’s worth a try at least.”

*

“So. How are you liking your new assignment?” Liam asked in a sing-song voice.

Louis made a grab for his tie, fingers shining with grease from the crisps the waitress had set out with their order of a couple of beers, and Liam almost toppled off his stool trying to avoid him.

Louis laughed, and made a show of pulling out a couple of paper napkins from the dispenser. “I guess it will do,” he said with a false put-upon sigh, as he wiped his fingers.

“Not the most stimulating job, I guess, packing cans into boxes,” Liam said, his comment starting out as a joke but his slight frown showing his sudden concern.

It made Louis smile, and he gave Liam’s hand a couple of pats. “It’s so much better,” he said earnestly. “I still can’t believe you got that woman to pay attention to you.””

“I told you I could do it.” Liam raised his beer in a triumphant salute.

Louis gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t look so satisfied, Harry’s the one paying for that beer. How do you feel about that?”

“Like you shouldn’t make bets you’re sure to lose?” Liam chuckled.

Louis snorted, shaking his head. “I’m as surprised as I am impressed.”

Liam grinned, nudging Louis with his shoulder for them to clink glasses.

After a few minutes of watching the football game, however, Liam let out a long, despondent exhalation. “I wish I could get Sophia to pay attention to me. I don’t know what to do to impress _her_... she doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Well, you have to let her know you exist or there's nothing to do.”

"How do I do that?”

“I’d start by getting out of the office more. Ask her out for a drink or something.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Liam deadpanned.

Louis kicked at his stool. “But have you _done_ it?”

“No,” Liam admitted.

“There you go then.”

Liam punched him in the arm, then raised his hands up in surrender when Louis gave him a look. “What about you and Harry?” Liam asked, after a beat.

“What about us?”

Liam raised his eyebrows. “Harry likes you. You like Harry. Why aren’t you two together yet?”

“When did you become an expert on love again?” Louis scoffed. “And you haven’t seen Harry with other people. He’s nice to everyone. You’d say he was into our seventy year old neighbour if you saw him with her.”

Liam punched him again, harder this time, and didn’t cower at Louis’ glare. “It’s true I’ve known the two of you for just a few of weeks, but it’s obvious Harry likes you as more than a friend, anyone can see that. And you didn’t even try to deny that you like him.”

Louis took a long drink of his beer and grimaced, hanging his head. “It’s not that simple. Did you know he lived in Canada when he was a kid, and Australia? And he spent a semester in Germany, and he's gone on ski trips to Switzerland in spring. He was at the top of his class in nursing school too. And he puts Parmesan cheese in tomato soup which doesn’t come from a can.”

Liam stared at him, wide-eyed. “So?”

“So I struggled in school; I’d never seen Parmesan cheese outside the store before; and I don’t even own a passport,” Louis replied dully. “I’ve got nothing to offer him.”

Liam rubbed the top of his head, his hair starting to grow out after having it shaved. “I think...” he said slowly, “I think that’s for Harry to decide. And I think—being blunt—it’s clear he’s fucking head over heels for you… even if you’ve never been to Japan or tried blue cheese, or whatever.”

Louis dragged a fingertip over the condensation on his glass, avoiding Liam’s eyes. “He deserves better. Someone he won’t be ashamed to introduce to his friends, and someone who’s...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“Someone who’s what?” Liam demanded.

“Just better,” Louis snapped. “Harry deserves better.”

Liam looked stunned. “That’s—You’re... Louis, you’re being ridiculous,” he said, at a loss for words.

Louis clinked his glass with Liam’s again, with a strained smile. “Cheers, mate.”

When Liam tried to bring it up again, Louis stuffed a handful of crisps in his mouth and told him to drop it.

*

Louis peeked into the kitchen after hearing the bang of pots and pans followed by a muffled curse.

“Harry? You alright?” he asked, standing in the doorway.

Harry jumped, not having heard Louis come up, his bare feet not making much noise on the parquet. He put down a baking pan with a little too much force on the counter. “Yeah. Sorry, were you taking a nap? Did I wake you up?”

Louis shook his head. “You certain you’re alright?”

The bag of flour released a small cloud of dust when Harry set it down. “I’m fine. I’m going to bake something. What would you like: coffee cake or lemon drizzle?”

Louis watched Harry rifling in a drawer for his measuring cups with a thoughtful frown on his face, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt.

“Louis?” Harry prompted, a hint of impatience in his voice, turning back to Louis who hadn’t moved from his position at the door.

“I want ice cream.”

“What?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Let’s go out for ice cream.”

Harry stared at him with obvious bemusement. “I was going to bake a cake.”

Louis took a deep breath before stepping into the kitchen and going up to Harry. He reached for his hand and gave it a tug. “In the mood you’re in you’ll end up burning the flat. Let’s go out for ice cream, yeah?”

The first hint of a smile appeared on Harry’s face. “But it’s December.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “The fourth of December. Not that it matters.” He gave Harry’s hand another tug.

“We could have warm waffles with ice cream. And hot chocolate sauce,” Harry mused, curling his fingers to hold Louis’ hand.

Louis nodded solemnly. “And sprinkles.”

The smile that had been playing around Harry’s mouth turned into a wide grin that made the dimple in his cheek pop up. “Of course.”

 

The ice cream parlour was tiny and empty. They sat at a small table by the window and had their order brought to them in glass boat dishes and silver spoons. Louis perched on the high stool while Harry sat at the edge of his seat with his feet on the ground.

“This was a great idea,” Harry said, putting down his spoon after licking off the last of the chocolate sauce. “My bad mood has completely _melted away_.”

Louis made a sound of protest around the spoon in his mouth, even as he giggled, shoulders hunching. “You know what to do when you’ve a shit day at work from now on: straight to the ice cream shop.”

Harry chuckled, but shook his head. “The ice cream helped, but most of it was you, actually.”

Louis blinked at him. “I didn’t do anything,” he said.

Harry shrugged. “You listened, and you made me laugh.”

Louis pushed a scattering of sprinkles at the bottom of the dish around with his spoon, before looking up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Well, I’m... glad I could help.”

Harry bit his lip and breathed in deep before sliding his hand over the tabletop until the tips of his fingers brushed Louis’ hand. “You did. You do.” When Louis didn’t draw back his hand, Harry covered it with his own. “You, um, make me happy, Lou.”

Louis exhaled a tremulous laugh. “Is that why you keep me around, then?”

Harry just smiled at him, soft and open, and Louis couldn’t look away. His heart sped up when he noticed Harry’s eyes flicking down to his lips, even as his fingers trailed up to circle Louis’ wrist in a loose grip. Harry’s knee bumped against his own when Harry leaned forward, practically out of his seat.

Louis’s eyelids fluttered closed for an instant, tilting his chin up as Harry drew close.

He jerked back before their lips could touch.

Louis leaned back in his seat, breathing a little too fast, wincing as Harry blinked, looking dazed for a moment, then sat back with his head lowered so that his hair shielded his face.

When Harry went to draw back his hand, Louis grasped at it, catching hold of two fingers.

Harry looked up, face pink, brow furrowed.

“Want to go for a walk in the park?” Louis blurted out.

After a beat, Harry nodded and managed a weak smile. “Sure, Lou. We can stop for fish and chips after—there’s a good place nearby—take it home for dinner.”

“Home,” Louis echoed, still gripping Harry’s fingers.

Harry hooked his fingers around Louis’. “Yeah, home.”


	4. Chapter 4

There was a rumble of distant thunder and the wind whipped around the football field. The sports centre had turned on the stadium lights earlier than usual because of the overcast sky.

“It’s my knee!” Niall argued, after he kicked the ball off course. “I messed it up a couple of years ago. Besides, I’m going easy on you ‘cause you’re still convalescing.”

Louis jogged after the ball, shoes squelching in the wet grass, and kicked it back to Niall after bouncing it on his knee a few times. “That’s it, though. I’m not at the top of my game, and you’re still terrible.”

Niall tightened the laces of his shoes, waiting until Louis got closer, then made as if to tackle him to the ground. Louis overbalanced at the playful shove and slipped in the grass, falling on his arse.

“Foul!” Louis hollered, and pulled Niall down with him, laughing.

When they picked themselves off the ground, Niall cackled at the state of Louis’ trousers, which were muddied all down the back from his knee to his lower back.

Louis tried to twist Niall’s nipple but couldn’t quite do it with the jacket he was wearing. “I’m telling Harry this was your fault.”

“Who’s idea was it to come out and play after it’s been raining buckets for the past three days?” Niall snorted, picking up the ball and holding it under his arm.

“Shut up,” Louis said, shooting Niall a mock glare while adjusting his headband.

Niall sniggered, then squinted at the sky. “It’s starting to rain again. Want to come over to mine? I’ll cook us something. Harry can join us when he gets out of work.”

“Sounds sick.”

Niall threw an arm around Louis’ shoulders as they walked back toward the building. “You know, I’m really glad you and Harry met.”

“Aww, Niall.” Louis grinned at him, then he raised an eyebrow. “Wait, are you saying you’re happy I got stabbed? _Thanks_ , Niall.”

Niall guffawed, forehead pressed against Louis’ shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”

“And I thought you were declaring your love for me.”

“Nah, I was just buttering you up to ask you something.”

Louis elbowed his side. “You’re doing a shit job, but let’s hear it.”

“There’s this Christmas event for the kids at the hospital, and I thought maybe you’d want to help out? Harry’s mentioned you love kids, and I know he hasn’t brought you around ‘cause his schedule’s been crazy.”

“Yeah, that’s been stressing him out,” Louis said with a small sigh.

Niall fumbled with the ball as he tried to unzip his jacket while walking down the corridor. “Nurses’ lot. I told him when I first met him he should’ve gone into Pharmacy.”

Louis shook his head. “Harry loves being a nurse. And he’s really good at it too.”

“I know, mate.” Niall said, laughing. “No need to get defensive.”

Louis kicked his foot, making him trip.

“So will you do it?”

Louis pushed the door open and let Niall go through first. “Yeah, ‘course. How can I help?”

Niall clapped him on the back. “There’s lots to do. No chance you know how to sew though, is there?”

“I do, actually.”

“Really? That’s brilliant,” he said, looking impressed.

Louis rolled his eyes. “I haven’t in ages, though. My stitches are probably going to be all crooked.”

Niall made a dismissive sound. “We have three surgeons in the group, you’d think they’d know how to sew, wouldn’t you? But they’re useless.” He shook his head in exasperation. “D’you think you can make some puppets?”

“Puppets? Like hand-puppets?”

“Yeah. But nothing too complicated! It’s just we had some cute ones of, like, animals and stuff, but they’re falling apart. And there’s no way Harry can fit his hand inside without his fingers poking through.”

Louis giggled. “Tragic.”

Niall grinned at him. “So you’ll do it?”

Louis tugged at the cuff of his jacket, pulling it over his knuckles. “I’ll try. But can you, um, not tell Harry just yet? In case it’s a disaster.”

Niall burst out laughing. “You could glue two buttons for eyes onto a pair of old socks and Harry would love it ‘cause you did it... but I’ll let you surprise him.”

His face hot, Louis aimed another kick at Niall’s feet.

*

Harry stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of Louis—he’d left the bathroom door open and was standing on the scale in his sleep clothes with a frown on his face and his hand on his belly. His hair was tousled and still damp after towelling it dry, and the fragrance of the eucalyptus shampoo he preferred reached the hall.

Harry hesitated before shifting the load of fresh laundry under one arm to knock on the open door. “Louis? Is something wrong?”

Louis looked up with a perplexed expression on his face. “I’ve put on like eight pounds,” he said.

A wide smile spread across Harry’s face. “That’s great!”

Louis looked taken aback as he stepped off the scale. “What?”

“Lou, you were, um, actually underweight when I met you,” Harry explained. “And that’s not healthy? It’s bad for your immune system to begin with, and you have to be extra careful about that.”

Louis still looked a little round-eyed as he walked up to Harry, but he smiled and poked him in the stomach. “I blame all your cooking, Harold, for fattening me up.”

Harry beamed, and gave a satisfied nod. “Thank you. I’m very proud.”

Louis tried to stifle his laughter, but couldn’t. “You’re the worst,” he said, giving Harry’s hip a pat as he stepped around him out of the bathroom. “I _am_ sorry, though.”

Harry trailed him down the hall. “Sorry about what?”

“That I’m eating you out of house and home,” Louis replied, pausing before his room, leaning against the door with his arms around his middle. “I guess I’m... I’m not used to there being so much food all the time.”

“Oh.”

Louis scrunched his nose at Harry’s tragic expression. “I wasn’t, like, _starving_ , Harry. Just a little... hungry.”

Harry made a visible effort to curb the sadness in his expression, and he reached out for a brief touch to his elbow. “Well, that’s over now.”

Louis’ lips quirked. “I suppose it is. There’s more danger of the opposite with you.” He made a show of patting his belly, which made Harry giggle, although he turned serious again the next moment.

“But for the record—I eat more than you, so you’re definitely not ‘eating me out of house and home’. And the only reason I used to worry a bit was because you’d eat _so fast_ , but never because you ate too much. So there’s nothing to apologize for, all right?” Harry said earnestly.

Louis hesitated, then got on his tiptoes to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, catching Harry by surprise.

Without another word, Louis went into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

“Um, there was something I wanted to ask you, if you’re not busy...” Harry said without going inside.

“Oh.” Louis sank down on the bed, pulling the bed throw over himself with a shiver. “No, of course not... What is it?” he asked, unable to keep the apprehension out of his voice.

Harry’s smile was a little shy, but reassuring. “It’s nothing bad... I hope.”

He put the bundle of clean clothes down on top of the drawer and went over to sit next to Louis. He bent over to pick up a snippet of yellow felt that was on the floor by the bed with a small frown. “Sorry, it looks like the mess from my scrapbooking is invading your room now.”

Louis nudged Harry’s thigh with his foot, his toes peeking out for a moment under the bedspread. “It’s your guest room, Harry.”

Harry tucked a bit of hair behind his ear, and shot Louis a lopsided grin. “It’s your room now. If I had a guest over they’d sleep on the couch.”

Louis buried his smile against his knees; the bed throw cool against his heated cheeks.

“What did you want to ask me? I’m guessing it’s not for me to move out,” he said, still smiling, slipping his toes underneath Harry’s thigh.

Harry’s grin was fleeting and replaced by a nervous chewing of his bottom lip. “No. I was… I was hoping you’d be my date for the Christmas party at the hospital?” Harry asked in a rush.

They stared at each other, both of them wide-eyed.

Louis swallowed with some difficulty, his mouth dry. “You want me to go with you to the, like, office party? With your coworkers and your bosses?”

Harry’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. It’s this Thursday.” He massaged the back of his neck, head lowered. “You don’t have to. I mean, it might not be much fun—Nick says the spread is awful—but if you wanted to...”

Louis untangled himself from the bed throw to reach Harry. He slipped his fingers underneath the hem of the sleeve of his jumper, which he had rolled up his forearm. “Of course I’ll go if you want me to,” Louis assured him. "Only don’t let Nick call me Tiny Tim again. He kept calling me that until I was released, and calling him Grimmy to make him stop didn’t work.”

Harry grinned. “That’s because everyone already calls him Grimmy.”

“Bit sinister for a doctor, innit?”

Harry laughed, and looked at Louis with a wistful smile once he stopped.

When Louis reached out he meant to pinch Harry’s cheek, but his fingers lingered in a caress, thumb brushing against his bottom lip before retreating.

*

Louis peered at his reflection in the glass paneling of the fire extinguisher in the hall. He raised his hand to his forehead to comb his fringe, but Liam slapped his hand away.

“Will you stop that? You look great. Harry could barely keep his eyes off you and on the road, I was frightened for my life,” Liam said, checking out his reflection in turn. He waggled his eyebrows and gave the collar of his dress shirt a tug.

Louis pinched his side. “Don’t make me regret inviting you.”

Liam raised an eyebrow. “I’m touched you asked me to come, don’t get me wrong. But third-wheeling’s no fun.”

Louis made a face, arms crossed over his chest. “We’re going as friends. The three of us, who are _friends_.”

Liam looked unconvinced, but didn’t argue any further as Harry ran up to them from the bathroom.

Harry led them down the hall to the event room where the party was being hosted. They could hear the music before Liam opened the door. It was full of people standing in small circles or milling around with drinks in their hands. There was a bar that prepared free drinks against the far wall.

“We’ll find Niall first and introduce you two,” Harry told Liam.

But then Nick swooped down out of nowhere, bright grin lit up by the disco lights. “Harry!” he hailed. “There you are. You’re late, you know, there were some delightful hors d’oeuvres—gone now. But come mingle!” He locked arms with Harry and started dragging him into the crowd.

Harry flung out his hand to grab Louis, pulling him along with them. Louis tried to reach out for Liam but wasn’t fast enough, and Liam just stood in place and gave a forlorn wave.

“Find Niall” Louis called.

Nick chuckled. “That’s Horan, right? Your Irish friend who works in the lab? I send him biopsies all the time,” he clarified to Louis.

He let go of Harry once he spotted his ‘favourite medical examiner’, but he still led the two of them around, flitting from group to group with a smile on his face.

Harry didn’t let go of Louis’ hand, and Louis couldn’t stop looking at the disco lights lighting up in Harry’s hair, and the spot of shadow of his dimple when he laughed.

After having gone around the room, the three of them lingered in a group, chatting. Harry had hooked an arm around Louis’ neck, and was relaxed, laughing often. Louis had started to enjoy himself too and was feeling quite comfortable.

Then the conversation went sour, when one of the men, who had introduced himself with a pompous ‘Doctor Simon Jones’ which had made Louis recoil, started going off about nurses.

“And we all know nurses are just people who didn’t have what it takes to get into—or get through—medical school,” he finished his rant to stunned silence.

Louis felt Harry stiffen a little, and the youngest girl in the group shot Dr Jones a thoroughly disgusted look.

Louis bit the inside of his cheek but couldn’t bite his tongue. “Whatever it took to get through medical school, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t get through a day of work without a nurse doing everything you think you’re too important to do. You might have a diploma from bloody Cambridge, but it’s not very impressive when you feel the need to put down the hard work of your coworkers, pal.”

One of the doctors clapped a hand over his mouth after gasping out loud. Louis glanced at Harry out of the corner of his eye and saw that he was contorting his face in a transparent attempt at stifling a grin.

Dr Jones looked down his nose at Louis. “You don’t work at the hospital. What is it you do again?”

Louis clenched his jaw. “I didn’t say.”

Jones’ mouth curled. “Not a Cambridge graduate, I’m certain. Let me guess, university dropout?”

“I didn’t even make it to uni,” Louis replied, deadpan.

Jones made a comically surprised face. “I think you’re the first person I’ve met here without a higher education. I do hope you don’t feel out of place. Maybe I should have invited my hairdresser after all!” he simpered.

Nobody laughed. Harry’s arm tightened around Louis.

“Maybe you should have invited them to come in your place.” When Harry spoke his voice, though deeper, was still placid, but the coldness in his eyes looking at Jones made it clear that he wasn’t joking.

Nick gave a bark of strained laughter. “Personally, I don’t know what I’d do without _my_ hairdresser.”

Everyone chuckled, the tension thick, except for Jones who gave a thin-lipped smile before excusing himself.

Louis felt like he was going to be sick. “I’m gonna go get us drinks, OK?” he told Harry, ducking out under his arm.

Harry looked at him in concern, and Louis managed a reassuring smile before stumbling away from the group, zeroing in on the bar.

Niall and Liam were by the bar having a chat.

“What’s up? You look…” Liam said, trailing off as though he couldn’t find the right word.

Louis snorted. “Like I need another drink?”

“Bummed out,” Liam finished his thought. “Did something happen?”

Louis shook his head, taking a swig of the drink the bartender handed him. “Nothing. Only what I thought would happen.”

Niall and Liam exchanged a nonplussed look.

“Whatever bad thing happened wouldn’t have happened if there’d been mistletoe,” Niall said confidently. “Whoever organized this party lacks vision.”

Liam snorted into his drink as he dissolved into giggles.

Louis had to laugh. “Been hanging out by the bar all this time, have you?”

“I’m not drunk,” Liam protested, slurring a little. His mouth fell open and he elbowed Louis in the side before twisting him around. “Oooh, better get back in there!” he said, pointing into the crowd.

Harry was talking to a tall, good-looking young man who kept flashing straight white teeth while he reached out to touch Harry’s arm. A wave of nausea washed over Louis.

“Liam, you wanker,” Niall groaned.

“I was joking, Louis!” Liam put in quickly.

Louis shrugged, shoulders slumping. “They’d make a nice couple.”

Niall stared at him, bug-eyed. “What are you on about, mate? You and Harry are so cute together.”

Louis forced himself to look away from Harry and his admirer.

“Louis thinks he’s not good enough for Harry,” Liam blurted out.

Louis punched him in the arm hard enough to make him yelp, although it didn’t drown out Niall’s loud and scandalized answer. “What!? You’re perfect for each other.”

“Right?” Liam joined in.

Louis pressed the cold glass to his cheek. “Shut up. I’m—He can’t really—”

“But he does. He really does,” Niall assured him. “Mistletoe is the answer. I’m gonna find some. I’m gonna fix this.”

Louis rolled his eyes, and, daring a glance at the crowd, caught sight of Harry on his own again and looking lost. With a sigh, he grabbed Harry’s drink and went to join him.

*

Harry wandered into the living room from the entrance hall, sniffing the air.

“It smells so good!” Harry said in surprise. “You even got rid of the burnt curry smell!” he added, impressed.

Louis stood up from the couch to greet him, rolling his eyes but smiling. “Well, I didn’t do anything. It was the magic of your scented candles.”

Harry took a deep breath. “Cinnamon?”

Louis pulled a comical face, waving his hands around while he was talking. “Cinammon!? There wasn’t anything normal like that. It was all ‘A Child’s Wish’ and ‘Magical Frosted Forest’ and one very fancy ‘truffle white cocoa’.”

Harry burst out laughing, clutching his stomach as he doubled over with laughter. “What is this? I get home from a long day at work and I get attacked over my prized collection of candles!”

Louis’ face scrunched up with amusement. “Prized collection in the back of the guest room closet?”

Harry clapped a hand to his forehead theatrically. “Is that where they were?”

“Now you’ll tell me it was Niall who hid them from you?” Louis teased, giggling.

Harry gave a honk of laughter. “No. I’d forgotten about them,” he admitted. “I kind of got a little overexcited buying candles last Christmas.”

“I did notice the theme,” Louis said with a grin. “What with the ‘Sugary Sweet Snowfall’ special edition.”

Harry groaned. “All _right_. That’s enough from you.”

“Aww. Hazza.” Louis reached up to pat his cheeks with both hands, grinning.

Harry leaned into his touch for a second then pounced, holding Louis’ wrists in a loose grip with one hand and tickling his side with the other. Louis squirmed, voicing a weak protest through a fit of giggling. Harry let go of Louis’ wrists for a concentrated attack on his sides.

“ _Ha_ rry!” Trying to wriggle out of his reach, Louis tripped back onto the couch.

Harry, grinning and breathless with laughter, braced himself with both hands on the inside back of the couch. “Going to keep making fun of my candles?”

Louis took hold of a lock of Harry’s hair that had escaped from his bun and gave it a tug, forcing Harry to bend down, holding himself up with one knee on the seat.

“‘Santa’s Candy Castle’,” Louis whispered with barely contained laughter.

Harry’s bark of laughter was strangled, and his breathing hitched as he looked down at Louis.

As though in a trance, Louis twirled the lock of Harry’s hair a little tighter around his fingers, keeping his eyes fixed on Harry’s.

Harry swallowed thickly and his eyes dropped to Louis’ mouth, licking his own lips, before meeting Louis’ eyes again.

“Louis—” Harry breathed.

Louis let go of Harry’s hair and let his hand drop to his own chest, gripping the material of his jumper, though he didn’t look away from Harry.

Harry drew back, taking a step back from the couch. He let his hair out of its bun, then pulled it up again, slowly.

“Thank you, by the way,” Harry said as he put his arms down, a smile spreading across his face.

“For what?” Louis asked in confusion, sitting up straight.

“For the good luck text. It was really sweet, Lou.”

Louis ducked his head, face a little pink. “You were nervous about the surgery.”

“I was.” Harry’s smile was soft. “I saw your text right before I was about to go prep the patient, and you know I have a hard time controlling my face, so she ended up asking me why I kept smiling. And when I told her, it made her smile too. She was quite nervous about the operation, but this distracted her so much that she was a lot calmer when the anaesthesiologist arrived.”

Louis looked up at Harry through his eyelashes, a timid smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “That’s nice, Harry.”

Harry nodded, still smiling. “It is. You made two people happy today.”

Louis shook his head, and hid his smile against his shoulder. “So you think Dr Irving will ask you to assist him again?” he asked after a moment.

“I hope so. The senior nurse said I did a good job.”

“That’s fantastic, love.” Louis got to his feet. “Are you going to tell me all the gruesome details while we have dinner?”

Harry gave an emphatic nod. “Yep. I’ll show you some pics on the Internet too.”

Louis grimaced. “Joy.”

Harry giggled. Then he noticed the candle which was dripping wax on the wooden surface of the television cabinet. “Oh, whoops.”

Louis remained frozen in place while Harry sprinted to the kitchen and came back with a wet rag and a plate.

“I must have a box-full of candle holders somewhere, but a plate will do,” he said, turning to Louis with a grin after setting the candle on the plate.

His grin disappeared when he saw Louis’ stricken face.

“Shit. I’m sorry, Harry. That was so stupid. I should have thought of that,” Louis said in a rush. “I ruined your furniture and I can’t even pay for it. I’m sorry.”

Harry stared at Louis for a long moment, at a loss. Then took his hand and led him over to the television cabinet. There was a bit of spilled wax, not quite solidified.

“Look.” Harry wiped it off with the rag. “It’s fine.”

Louis peered at the wood doubtfully, but there was no stain.

“But even if it wasn’t—It was an accident. While you were trying to do something nice. No one could be mad because of that.”

Louis rubbed a finger over the wooden surface, forehead creased. “I shouldn’t have touched your stuff,” he muttered.

Harry shook his head. “Hey. No. That box shouldn’t have been there. I told you: it’s your room. And it’s... it’s supposed to be your home too.”

Louis’ head shot up to look at Harry, wide-eyed.

“And that means you can touch and use everything in the flat. You can watch whatever you want on the telly. And you can take that book off the shelf and leave it on your bedside table instead. And you can tell me to fuck off when I open the window and you’re cold—”

A corner of Louis’ mouth twitched upward.

“And when we do the shopping you don’t have to ask me if it’s alright to get some chocolate milk. And you can—”

Louis covered Harry’s mouth with his hand. “All right, Harry! I _got_ it,” he said with a shy smile.

Harry beamed at him when Louis lowered his hand. “Glad we cleared that up.”

Louis rolled his eyes, still smiling. “You’re unbelievable.”

“In a good way?” Harry asked, playful, but with a hint of bashfulness.

Louis hugged him, catching Harry by surprise. He put his arms around Louis, stooping a little to curl around him.

“Yeah in a good way,” Louis said against Harry’s shoulder. “A really good way.”

Harry beamed, cheek squished against Louis’ ear.

*

“I thought you were going to take care of the drinks. No. Wasn’t Niall doing that? Liam, this is—”

Harry fumbled with his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw Louis standing at the door.

“Hey,” Harry said, blinking at Louis with wide eyes.

Louis could hear Liam’s voice coming through the other line, although he couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“What’s up with you?” Louis asked with a bemused expression on his face.

“Me?”

“Mhm.”

Harry shrugged, still holding the phone in his hand, although Liam appeared to have hung up. “Nothing.”

“Right.” Louis shook his head and backed out of the kitchen.

*

Liam tripped over the front step at the entrance to the building, his attention on his phone, brow furrowed. Louis raised his eyebrows as Liam recovered from his near-fall shooting Louis a bright smile.

“Everything all right?” Louis asked him suspiciously.

Liam nodded several times, still glancing down at his phone.

Louis reached around him to call the lift. “Right.”

Liam followed him into the lift after sending a final text message. “Yep. All good.”

Louis shook his head. “You’re an odd one.”

“What?” Liam asked, pocketing his phone.

“Who goes for a spa day on the twenty-third of December?” Louis replied.

Liam’s breath came out in a rush. “Oh, that.” He laughed. “The coupon was about to expire! And I’m leaving for home tomorrow, so it was now or never.”

“You should have asked Sophia instead of me, though. Missed chance there.”

Liam shrugged. “Nah. It’s kind of hard to impress while you’re getting a facial, isn’t it?”

Louis sniggered as the lift doors opened. Liam pressed his palms to his cheeks, giggling, as he followed him down the hall.

“You’ll stay for tea, won’t you?” Louis asked as he fumbled with the keys in front of the flat door.

Liam couldn't contain a laugh. “Yeah.”

With a last suspicious look in Liam's direction, Louis opened the door. He kicked off his shoes and stepped into the living room, which was in gloom. “Hazza?” he called.

There was a blast of tooting as the lights came on and more than a dozen people popped out from behind the couch with a cacophonous mix of ‘happy birthday’ and ‘surprise’.

Louis’ mouth fell open. He took a few steps forward. After a sweeping glance at familiar faces, he fixed his gaze on Harry, who came forward, looking sheepish.

“Happy birthday, Lou!”

Without even thinking, Louis took Harry’s outstretched hand, holding onto it.

“How did you even find out?” he asked, still shocked.

“It was in your file,” Liam piped up from behind him.

Louis didn’t look away from Harry. “Confidential, was it?” he said without heat, squeezing Harry’s fingers.

“Just get in here, and stop complaining so we can get this party started!” Niall shouted to a chorus of enthusiastic approval.

Louis let go of Harry as Niall pulled him into a hug. Someone turned on music and people started moving around while Niall hugged Louis tight. “I hung up a bunch of mistletoe,” he whispered into his ear before they pulled apart.

Louis shook his head as Niall winked at him, and turned to embrace Liam.

“Unprofessional.” Louis pretended to grumble, which made Liam giggle.

When Liam let him go, Louis turned around to find Harry.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” Louis said, voice small, as he reached out for him.

He wrapped his arms around Harry, thumb digging into his upper back.

Harry stooped into the embrace, his hands spread on Louis’ back, holding him close. “I just want to make you happy.”

Louis pressed his face into Harry’s shoulder, taking in the warmth of his body and the smell of incense and flour.

“Have you been baking?” he asked, voice muffled.

He felt Harry nod. “Your birthday cake—I wasn’t going to get it from Tesco’s!”

They both giggled. Then Louis heard someone say his name, and he pulled back, feeling Harry’s hands smoothing down his back, reluctant to let go.

“Better say hello to everyone.” Louis took a step back, but reached out to fix Harry’s hair before he left to greet the guests. 

 

Niall had been thorough hanging mistletoe up all around the flat. Louis spent the night making sure he didn’t end up under it with Harry, despite Niall’s unsubtle attempts at making it happen. Yet he and Harry were revolving around each other, at one point working a joke between the two of them while standing at opposite ends of the room.

By eleven most people had left—like Liam they had to drive or travel the next day, going home for Christmas.

When Harry went downstairs to pack Niall into a cab, Louis ran around the flat taking all the mistletoe down. He was collecting the last bit of it when the lights went out. He could see through the window that the whole street was down. The flat was in gloom instead of pitch black, because of the glow of an almost full moon and some battery-powered string of Christmas lights someone had wound around the floor lamp.

Louis turned from looking out the window when he heard the front door open and close.

“Good thing I took the stairs,” Harry said with a breathy laugh as he walked into the living room. He squinted at Louis with his armful of mistletoe sprigs and bit back a laugh. “So you _do_ know how to clean up.”

Louis didn’t laugh, and he could make out how Harry's brow furrowed at his silence. His heart hammering in his chest, he walked up to Harry and dumped the mistletoe at his feet. Harry looked down and back up at him. His eyes were bright in the moonlight, and the sound of their breathing was abnormally loud in the silence.

“That seems counterproductive,” Harry said finally.

Louis took a deep breath and let his fingers graze Harry’s sides. “Do you still want to… do you still want to kiss me?” he asked, voice low and soft.

Harry looked at him, unblinking, before nodding slowly. The ripple of his throat was visible as he swallowed before breathing out a quiet ‘yes’.

Louis leaned in close, half on his tiptoes and balancing himself with a hand on Harry’s hip. Harry didn’t move; his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on Louis, he seemed frozen in place.

Louis tightened his fingers on his hip. “So, do I have to ask you to kiss me now, or—?”

Harry didn’t let him finish. His hands coming up to grip Louis' waist, he bent down to crush their mouths together. Harry tasted like wine when Louis licked into his mouth, and his lips were soft and insistent as they moved against his own.

Harry breathed out his name when they separated.

Louis trailed his fingers from Harry’s chest to his neck, feeling the thrum of his pulse point for an instant before sliding up to cup his cheek and pull him into another kiss.

“Your room?” Louis asked, smoothing his thumb over Harry’s cheek.

Harry nodded, nosing along the angle of his jaw. His hands spread on Louis’ lower back, holding him as he pressed a scattering of wet kisses behind his ear and down the side of his neck. “In my bed.”

Louis clutched the back of Harry’s shirt with one hand and curled the fingers of the other hand in the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

“I don’t want to stop touching you. Don’t want to stop kissing you,” Harry murmured into his neck.

Louis’ breath came out in a stutter. “Just enough to get our clothes off, Harry,” he said with a breath of laughter. He worked open the button of Harry’s jeans and slipped his hand inside to grip his cock, half-hard and hot around his fingers and against his palm.

Harry moaned under his breath, sliding his hands down to grope Louis’ arse.

“I can’t believe this is happening. I’m not dreaming, am I?” Harry whispered, taking Louis’ hand and holding it to his chest so that Louis could feel his racing heartbeat under his palm.

Louis ducked his head, blushing, then looked up at Harry through his eyelashes. “Stop talking shit and take me to bed, Harry.”

Harry led him to the bedroom by the hand, glancing back at him every other step as though to make sure Louis hadn’t disappeared.

Louis undressed Harry, fingers fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, and his own cock throbbing as he crouched in front of Harry to help him out of his tight jeans and pants while Harry looked down at him with his mouth open, his cock giving a visible twitch.

“Shit, Louis. You’re so beautiful.” Harry reached for him when Louis stood up. He slipped a hand underneath Louis’ shirt and up his side. “I can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

Louis made a small, broken sound, and took a step back, shivering. “You’re impossible,” he said quietly, staring at Harry incredulously.

Harry frowned a little but said nothing as Louis pulled his clothes off and got into the bed, his body breaking out in goosebumps from the contrast between the cool sheets and his heated skin. He took in the long lines of Harry’s body as he rifled in the drawer of the bedside table, the moonlight streaming in through the window making his skin almost glow.

Harry straightened with a small bottle of lube and a few packets of condoms in his hand, which he set down on the bed by the pillow before straddling Louis around the hips and bending down to kiss him.

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Me talking while we’re... doing stuff?” Harry asked, in a quiet, serious voice, looking at Louis straight on.

Louis shook his head, biting his lip. “No. No, of course not. I love your voice. It’s just what you’re saying is a bit...”

Harry cupped the side of his neck while he waited for Louis to finish his thought.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” Louis confessed.

Harry leaned down to kiss him again, slow and gentle. “It’s true though. All of it.”

Louis brushed Harry’s hair off his neck, running his fingers through his hair over and over again. He opened his mouth, but ended up saying nothing, instead he tugged Harry down to suck a mark under the angle of his jaw.

“Love that,” Harry groaned when Louis lapped at the bruised spot, pulling his hair back a little harder.

“Yeah?” Louis breathed, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair and giving another tug as he smoothed a palm down Harry's side, feeling the shifting muscles under his hand.

Harry hummed in assent, thumbing at one of Louis’ nipples. “You like playing with my hair too, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Louis agreed, kissing down Harry’s neck and licking at the hollow of his throat. “Love your curls. And your eyes. And your dimples.”

Harry made a pleased sound in his throat. “Lou.”

Louis groped around for the lube and managed to uncap it with one hand, squirting some lube onto his fingers before reaching for Harry’s cock.

“Like this?” Louis asked as he gripped his cock, moving his hand in a slow, tight movement up and down.

Harry sat up a bit, his hair a mess. “Yeah, shit, that’s good.”

Louis gripped at his thigh with one hand while he stroked him, letting his thumb circle around the slit before going back down the shaft until he had Harry leaking and moaning low in his throat, thrusting into Louis’ fist.

Harry spread a hand in the middle of Louis’ chest. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep that up.”

Louis squeezed the base of his cock. “How about you fuck me instead?”

Harry went still, breathing hard. “Yeah?”

Louis nodded, letting go of Harry’s cock and pressing the bottle of lube into his hand.

“Fuck, Louis. Gonna fuck you so good, babe.” Harry’s voice was strangled, and he got tangled in the sheets as he moved from on top of Louis to get between his legs. He pressed wet, biting kisses all down Louis’ chest and stomach—careful around the scar—disappearing under the covers to nose along the juncture of his thigh before taking his cock into his mouth.

He curled his tongue around the head, teasing at the slit with the tip of his tongue, while he pressed a slick finger to Louis’ hole.

Louis gripped Harry’s shoulder when he pushed in the first finger at the same time as he swallowed him down almost to the base, pressing the flat of his tongue to the underside as he drew back up the shaft.

Harry licked at his balls and nuzzled at the thin skin of his inner thigh as he thrust a finger in and out of Louis, pushing in a second one when Louis squeezed the back of his neck, the muscles of his abdomen tensing under Harry's sharp, biting kisses. Harry sucked his cock, wet and messy, while he worked Louis open with two fingers. He didn’t add a third finger until Louis bent his knees and started trying to fuck himself on Harry’s hand, burying his fingers in Harry’s hair.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Louis gasped, throwing his head back, when he felt Harry moan around his cock at the tug on his hair.

“Harry, that’s enough, c’mon, fuck me, please,” Louis babbled, pulling at Harry's hair again to get him off his cock.

Harry groaned and lifted his head, the sheets slipping down to his shoulders like a mantle. His lips were wet and glistening, and he kept his fingers inside of Louis, pressing against his prostate. “You’re so hot, Lou. Could spend all night between your legs.”

Louis gripped the pillow behind his head, gasping into his forearm, when Harry kept fingering him, pushing his fingers in up to the knuckle.

“Get up here,” Louis whined, spreading his legs further, but Harry instead pushed them up against Louis’ chest and hooked his ankles over his shoulders as he raised himself up on his knees.

Harry’s cock, hot and wet, bumped against the back of Louis' thigh. Louis arched his back with a frustrated cry. “ _Harry_. What’re you waiting for?”

Harry licked his lips. “Is this OK? We’re both clean, but if you want I can—”

Louis shook his head. “It’s good. It’s good. _Come on_.” He reached around trying to get Harry’s cock to line up with his hole.

Harry bit his lip, chin touching his chest as he pushed in. Louis let out a strangled breath and gripped the back of Harry's neck with both hands, digging his fingers in the hair, damp with sweat, at the base of his skull.

Harry hunched over to kiss him as he start to move. “All right?” he asked against his lips.

Louis nodded, then made a sound of discomfort, and twisted around to get his legs down and around Harry’s waist instead. He whimpered when Harry pushed back inside, the change of angle making a wave of heat spread across his chest.

“Is that better?” Harry panted with a crooked grin.

Louis dragged his fingers down Harry’s neck to latch onto his shoulders. “You feel so good, Hazza,” he sighed.

Harry groaned, low in his throat. “You’re so beautiful.” He buried his face against Louis’ neck, snuffling. “And you smell amazing.”

Louis’ giggle was breathless. “It’s from the spa.”

Harry kissed him languidly. “You taste so good too. Can’t wait to taste every bit of you,” he whispered, making Louis flush.

“Harry, make me come, please, need to come,” Louis breathed, hoisting his legs a little higher around Harry’s waist.

Harry made an inarticulate noise and reached for Louis’ cock, drawing a whimper out of Louis with every thrust of his hips and every twist of his hand.

Louis couldn’t keep his eyes open when he came, gasping, scratching down Harry’s upper arm as he scrambled to hold onto something. Harry kept still while Louis clenched around his cock, and nipped at his collarbones as Louis came down from his orgasm, letting his legs drop at either side of Harry.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous when you come,” Harry moaned as he pulled out carefully and stripped his cock—once, twice—expression almost pained—before coming into his hand, dripping onto Louis’ stomach.  
   
With a sigh, Harry collapsed onto the bed next to him, keeping his hand closed so as not to smear come all over the sheets. There was sweat beading on his upper lip when he turned to smile at Louis.

“Shit, Lou, that was amazing."

Louis stretched to give him a peck on the lips, then raised himself on one elbow and rubbed Harry’s stomach until his breathing returned to normal.  
 

After they had cleaned up a bit, they settled in bed, facing each other. Louis twirled a bit of Harry’s hair around one finger, a smile tugging on his lips when Harry slipped a leg between Louis’.

“It’s past midnight—Happy Birthday, Louis,” Harry said softly. “And Merry Christmas Eve.”

Louis caressed his cheek. “It was wonderful, Harry. Thank you.”

Harry kissed the pad of his thumb. “You’re welcome.”

*

The next morning Harry woke Louis up with a hand on his shoulder and a steaming mug of tea. “Time to start waking up, Lou. The kids’ Christmas Eve party starts at ten thirty, remember?”

After a quick trip to the bathroom, Louis settled back in bed, sitting up against the headboard sipping his tea while Harry flitted around the room in boxer briefs and an old tee shirt, trailing wrapping paper.

“Shouldn’t you have done that already?”

Harry went over to him and stuck a bit of tape on his chin. “I’ve been very busy,” he said in a mock stern tone.

“Distracted is more like it,” Louis teased, fiddling with the piece of tape.

“That too,” Harry agreed, giving him a meaningful look.

Louis bit back a smile, then set the empty mug down and got out of bed, pulling on his pants and tugging down the oversized jumper Harry had brought him along with the tea. “I’ve been busy too, actually.”

“Yeah?” Harry asked, obviously confused.

Louis took his hand. “Come see.”

He led Harry to his room and pulled out from the closet the box where he kept the hand puppets he had made for Harry.

Harry held them up, one by one, his mouth open. “Did you make these?”

“Mhm.”

Louis watched Harry as he fit his hand inside the dolphin puppet, mirroring Harry’s grin when he wiggled the little fins. Harry looked at him with wide eyes. “These are incredible, Lou! Where did you even learn to do this?”

Louis picked up the bunny puppet and fit his hand inside. They fist-bumped with the puppets, smiling at each other. Harry didn’t press him for an answer, waiting for Louis to find the words.

“I had this friend, Stan. We only saw him in the summer, when he came to stay with his grandma—she lived down the street from Simon’s house. Me and Zayn would go visit all the time, though. She bought Zayn stuff so he could paint, and she taught me how to sew.”

“She sounds like a lovely woman.”

“She was.”

Harry gave his elbow a squeeze. “Are you still in touch with Stan?”

Louis shook his head. “Not for a while. I think he went to uni in Bath, for Psychology. I don’t know.”

“He probably has Facebook, though. I’m sure he’d love to hear from you.”

“You think?” Louis asked, arms wrapped around himself.

“Yes, I do.”

The corner of Louis’ mouth twitched, but he remained pensive until Harry nuzzled his neck with the dolphin puppet, making him squirm and giggle at the ticklish sensation.

Louis held his wrist still and got on his tiptoes to press their lips together. “I can’t wait to see your puppet show.”

“You made all my favorite animals. And they fit perfectly.” Harry grinned, and Louis fit his thumbs into his dimples, cupping his face with both hands. “Thank you.”

He pulled Louis into a lingering kiss with both hands on his lower back, and Louis fit their bodies together, shifting to align their hips, while Harry’s fingers reached lower—rucking up the jumper—and tightened their grip.

“We’re going to be late,” Harry said, making no move to stop Louis, who spread his palms on Harry’s chest and tugged at one of his nipples.

“We better hurry then,” Louis replied with a playful grin. “There’s lube in the drawer.”

Harry’s answering grin was blinding. He wriggled out of Louis’ attempt to give his nipple a twist, and bounded toward the bedside drawer.

“Bit of a surprise when I opened the drawer on my second night here,” Louis went on as he climbed onto the bed on his hands and knees after shucking his pants off.

“I like my guests to feel comfortable,” Harry responded, making Louis snort with laughter even as he reached between his legs to cup his half-hard cock and give his balls a roll and a squeeze.

When he returned a moment later to tease his hole with a spit-slick finger, he heard a choked sound behind him.

Louis turned his head to look at Harry, who was standing frozen in place biting down on the knuckle of his index finger.

“Should I do it?” Louis asked, teasing, shooting a glance at the bottle of lube in Harry’s other hand. He pressed the tip of his finger inside himself when their eyes met.

Harry’s gaze flitted to his arse then back to his face. He shook his head. “No, I want to do it,” he said finally, voice deeper than usual.  
   
He wasted no time moving to stand behind Louis; he pushed the jumper higher up his back with both hands, framing the curves of his body sliding up and back down.

“Fuck, Louis, your body.”

Louis heard the click of the cap, and then Harry was sliding two fingers up his perineum, pressing against his hole. He took his time, working his fingers in and out of him, finding just the right angle that had Louis stifling moans against the crook of his elbow, face buried in his arms and thighs trembling.

“If we had more time I could make you come just from this.”

Louis lifted his head a little. “We’ll be late,” he said, voice shaking. “Think of the children, Harry.”

A honk of laughter burst from Harry, who pulled out his fingers as he doubled over laughing.

Louis turned his head to glance at him over his shoulder, hiding his grin, watching as Harry, still chuckling, peeled off his boxer briefs, which were wet with precome.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Harry whispered while he rubbed his cock between Louis' arse cheeks.

Louis mumbled something that got cut off as Harry pushed inside in a smooth slide until he bottomed out. He pulled out completely and then pressed back in slowly, making Louis arch his back with a moan.

“ _Harry_ , just fuck me,” Louis groaned, hot all over and sweating in the jumper.

“Hard? You want it hard, babe?”

Louis made a desperate sound of assent, cheek pressed to the mattress.

“Won’t be able to sit still in the car. Going to be... feeling me... the whole drive,” Harry grunted.

Louis keened, letting the force of Harry’s thrusts fuck his cock into his fist until he came, whimpering, streaking the coverlet underneath him with his come. Harry’s grip on his hips tightened, and he was panting when he pulled out, already dribbling come, and shooting off the rest of his load on Louis’ lower back.

Louis rolled off his knees and onto his back with a groan, legs dangling off the edge of the bed. “You’re washing the bedspread. And we’re going to be late for sure because I need a shower.”

Harry laughed, still breathless, raising himself on his arms over Louis to kiss him.

“But worth it on all accounts, yeah?”

“Mhm.” Louis pulled on a bit of his hair. “Yes, Harry, you’re a damn good fuck,” he said in a deadpan tone.

Harry burst into giggles, and Louis followed a moment after.

*

“Nice of you to join us—” Niall looked from Louis to Harry and back with narrowed eyes. After almost a full minute, his face relaxed into a huge grin, and he pumped the air with his fist before throwing his arms around both of them. “Yes! Fucking finally. It was the mistletoe, wasn’t it? I knew it. You’re welcome.”

They were at the hospital all morning, spreading a bit of holiday cheer and providing a welcome distraction to the sick children and their families.  
Louis laughed so hard he almost spilled half his soda on his lap during Harry’s puppet show. They played games and sang and read stories, and after lunch they took the car and headed out of the city.  
 

Louis kept fidgeting in his seat, especially once they were out of central London and on the motorway. And Harry kept shooting glances at him until, after fifteen minutes of Louis’ nervous leg jiggling, he reached over the console to rest his hand on Louis’ thigh for a moment.

“You know, I lived in Holmes Chapel until I was eleven—that’s when my mum got her job—and I never came back, because I moved to London for uni, and now I’m working there.” Louis lowered the volume on the radio when Harry started talking, voice slow and contemplative. “Gemma’s travelling all the time, and mum’s in Peru at the moment, so we don’t get to see each other that much. But every year we come back to Holmes Chapel for Christmas and then it’s _home_ again for all of us, at least for a little while.”

Louis smiled at Harry, soft and fond, when he glanced at him. “That’s beautiful, Harry.”

The radio played on, volume low. Louis contained himself from bouncing his leg, chewing off the nail on his thumb instead. “You sure you want me to go with you, though?” he blurted out. “I don’t want to horn in on your time with your family when you’re home.”

Harry’s eyebrows dipped, though he didn’t look away from the road. “Of course I do.  And mum and Gemma are excited to meet you after I’ve been talking about you so much.”

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’ve told them, but they’re probably expecting you to bring home, like, a doctor or something, aren’t they?” Louis stammered, still biting his nails. “All nurses want to marry doctors, isn’t that what they say?”

The moment the words were out of his mouth, he winced, his stomach writhing when he noticed the shadow at the corner of Harry’s mouth darken.

“Sorry,” Louis said quickly.

Harry didn’t answer, driving in silence. Louis put his hands on his lap and went very still when they pulled into a motorway service area a few minutes later.

Harry kept his hands on the driving wheel, drumming his fingers, his face still set into a frown, looking straight ahead.

After a few seconds, Louis jolted into movement, unbuckling his seatbelt and bending down to put on his shoes.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked in surprise.

“I’ll need my shoes to get back to London? Bus drivers can be really fussy about stuff like that.”

Harry stared at him. “What?” he asked slowly, with obvious confusion. “You think... you think I’m going to just leave you here?”

Louis shrugged. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

Harry’s face crumpled. He squeezed his eyes shut and let his breath out in a long sigh, resting his forehead on the wheel. “I’m not mad at you. I’m really not. But even if I was, I’d never abandon you in the middle of nowhere. That’s awful,” he said, voice trembling, as he straightened and turned in his seat to face Louis after unfastening his seatbelt.

“Then why did you stop the car?” Louis demanded.

“Sorry. I was thinking.” Harry dragged a palm down his face. “And I wanted to tell you this while I could look at you.”

Louis wrapped his arms around his middle, sinking back into the seat, but met Harry’s eyes when he started to speak.

“D’you want to know what I told my family about you? I told them I met you at the hospital, and that you were looking for a flat and I offered because we hit it off so well from the start. I told them that I... that I like you a lot, and I hoped you might like me back. I told them that you make me laugh more than anyone.” Harry bit his lip, but didn’t avert his eyes. “And now I hope I can tell them that you’ve decided to give me a chance, and that I really hope it will work out between us.”

Louis tightened his arms around himself. “Oh.”

Harry reached out to brush Louis’ knee with the tips of his fingers in a cautious touch. “And I would never abandon you like that, Louis. Even if I was mad at you. That’s not—” Harry shook his head in bewilderment. “I don’t know how you even came up with something like that—”

“Sorry,” Louis whispered.

Harry winced. “No, Lou, don’t apologize, please. I just—I don’t understand, baby.”

Louis was quiet for a minute, bottom lip between his teeth and eyes on his lap.

“One time I got in trouble at school—” Louis began, but his voice was shaking so much it broke off almost immediately.

Harry’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head frantically. “Louis. Shit. You don’t have to give me any explanations. I’m sorry. I don’t—”

Louis looked up at him, a little too pale. “No. I... I want to tell you.”

Harry eyed him in concern. “You don’t have to. You don’t owe me any explanations, Louis. It was wrong of me to ask.”

Louis swallowed around the lump in his throat. “I want to tell you.”

Harry’s brow was knitted in concern as he gave a slow, encouraging nod. “OK. I’m listening.”

Louis took a deep breath before he started talking in a quiet, faltering voice.

“One time I got in trouble at school because I hadn’t been turning in homework. And they called Simon, 'cause they wanted to talk to him about my 'poor academic performance'. They had to insist too, but Simon finally went around, and he told them he was doing what he could but I was lazy and a handful—which is true, I guess. But he was furious at getting called out like that, obviously.”

He cleared his throat as his voice cracked.

“After the meeting we drove around for an hour while he told me off. Then he stopped the car and left me at a petrol station. He’d said he was going to do that a few times before but I didn’t... I didn’t think he actually would. I didn’t have any money or anything, so I had to find my way back. I walked for hours to get back to the house.”

Louis finally looked up to meet Harry’s eyes.

“So when you stopped here, I thought—”

Harry looked back at him, his face pinched as though he were fighting back tears.

“How old were you?”

Louis shrugged. “Thirteen.”

Harry exhaled very slowly. “Shit, Lou.”

Louis twisted his fingers in the material of his jumper. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to put up with me being stupid. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“You’re not being stupid.” Harry ran a hand through his hair with another shuddering exhalation. “But... fuck. Louis, when you said Simon wasn’t very nice... That was a bit of an understatement. I could tell that you... that you hadn’t been treated so well, but I didn’t think it was...” he trailed off.

Louis looked at him nervously. “Do you still want me?”

Harry gaped at him. “Of course I—” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Nothing you tell me about... about your life or about... about how you feel at a given moment... is going to change how I feel about you.”

Louis stared at him wide-eyed.

“But I need you to know that I’m never going to hurt you on purpose. Never. Not in any way.”

Louis reached out to stroke his arm. “I know that, Hazza,” he protested in a small, high voice.

Harry held his hand, slotting their fingers together, but he looked unconvinced. “But maybe if you could tell me... if you could tell me what you’re afraid of—like, right now, you’d tell me, ‘I’m afraid you’re going to leave me here’. Because sometimes I’m not going to know, Louis, and I’m going to need you to tell me, if you can. Please, will you do that?”

Louis nodded, his chest aching from how hard his heart was pounding.

“Right. Good.” Harry lifted Louis’ hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “We should go, babe,” he said after a long moment.

“Yeah.”

Harry let go of him to start the car.

“Wait!” Louis cried out.

He clambered over the car console to embrace Harry, the gear shift digging into his thigh as he stretched out across the seats until he was practically on Harry’s lap.

“You know that... that I really like you too, right?” Louis whispered against his neck, before pulling back a little so he could look at him.

He mapped out Harry’s features with his fingers, and pressed small kisses in their wake— all over his face: from the sweep of his eyebrows and the bow of his upper lip to the tip of his nose.

Harry let him and said nothing, simply wrapping his arms around Louis after turning off the engine.

Louis tucked a bit of Harry’s hair behind his ear. He opened his mouth to speak but instead leaned in to press their lips together. When he drew back from the kiss he gave Harry a shy, playful smile. “Right. We can go now.”

Harry was startled into a laugh, then a smile spread across his face.

“I really, really like you, Lou,” he said softly.

*

Louis peered at the house from the car window, gripping the part of the seat belt that wrapped around his middle with both hands. It was a semidetached house with two stories and a front lawn with a hedge lit up a by a string of Christmas lights. There was a wreath on the door and a car already parked in the driveway.

Harry reached over to unbuckle Louis’ seatbelt, startling him out his reverie.

“Mum and Gemma arrived a few days ago.”

"Hm."

“They’re not going to ask you anything that will make you uncomfortable, I promise. And you don’t have to answer anything you don’t want to, either,” Harry reassured him, taking Louis’ hand and pushing back the cuff of his jumper from where he’d pulled it down to cover his whole hand.

Louis chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “I’m afraid I’m going to embarrass you in front of your family—I’ll say something stupid or do something wrong, and when it’s just the two of us it might be all right... but in front of your mum or your sister... You’re going to regret inviting me over.”

Harry gave a small sigh and pressed a kiss to Louis’ palm. “I want you here. I’m very proud to bring you home, and nothing you say or do is stupid or wrong.”

“OK,” Louis said in a very small voice.

After a moment, though, he smiled teasingly. “I might embarrass you on purpose, though. I’ve got a few stories to tell.”

Harry tried to pout but a grin kept tugging at his mouth. “You wouldn’t.”

Louis giggled. “I’ve got to tell them how you shrunk your nurse crocs because you left them on the radiator.”

“Don’t remind me! I still have to buy new ones.”

“Or when you told that awful joke at the grocery store and the cashier almost called security.”

Harry frowned in mock outrage before bursting into laughter.

Louis squeezed Harry’s hand before letting go. “C’mon, Harold. We’ve been here forever. Shame on you keeping your mum waiting.”

 *

Louis stared at the ceiling. It had glow-in-the-dark stars that still lit up even though they had been up for more than a decade; Harry’s old room had been mostly refurbished, but there were still signs that it had once belonged to a child.

He raised himself up on an elbow to peek over Harry’s back and shoulder at the alarm clock on the bedside table: it was just after seven in the morning. When he let himself settle back in bed, Harry groaned and turned around on his other side to face him.

Louis winced when he saw Harry was awake.

“Lou,is somethin’ wrong?” Harry rumbled, squinting at him.

“No. ‘m sorry I woke you, love.” Louis gave him a peck on the chin and brushed the hair out of his face, thumb smoothing over the pillow creases on his cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

Harry smiled and wrapped an arm around Louis’ waist. “Merry Christmas,” he said around a yawn. “Was I snoring or somethin’? You slept fine last night, didn’t you?”

“You weren’t and I did. I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

Harry hummed with his eyes closed while Louis slipped his hand under his tee shirt to rub his side, feeling the muscled definition of his ribcage and the soft groove of his waist and hip.

Louis closed his own eyes with a small sigh, letting his hand come to rest on Harry’s waist. But he was restless, and it took just a few seconds for him to open his eyes again, surprised to find Harry looking at him with a small frown instead of asleep.

“I know you got along great with my mum and sister last night, but... d’you want me to give you your presents now? Instead of, like, later with them there?” Harry asked slowly, regarding Louis carefully.

Louis blinked at Harry, his face and chest warm. He shuffled closer to hide his face against Harry’s chest and nodded without a word, holding him tight around the waist. He breathed in deep—Harry’s unique smell, stronger after sleep, helping him relax.

Harry kissed the top of his head. “C’mon, then.” 

 

Louis accepted the package from Harry and held it to his chest. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Harry just grinned, bouncing in place where he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, right next to the Christmas tree.

Louis peeled off the little bow from the package and reached over to pin it to Harry’s chest. He stuck his tongue out at Harry who returned the gesture, with the result that they both ended up laughing. Still shaking with silent giggles, Louis unwrapped his gift: a blue dressing gown that spilled over his lap.

“D’you like it?” Harry asked as Louis pulled it on over his pajamas.

“It’s so cozy.” Louis tugged the lapels closed with his arms over his chest, burrowing up to his nose in the soft material. “Thanks, Harry.”

He presented Harry with a clumsily wrapped box, letting their fingers brush in the process. “It’s not much—”

Harry shushed him while he ripped open the paper, then guffawed when he saw the box of crocs. He took out the hot pink pair of shoes and tried them on. “They’re perfect, Louis. Thank you!”

Louis smiled at Harry and leaned forward on his knees to kiss him. Harry bit his lip when they separated and pressed an envelope into his hand.

“What’s this?”

“It’s for both of us, so it doesn’t really count,” Harry put in quickly.

Louis shook out two tickets from the envelope, and read the writing on them curiously. His mouth fell open when he realized they were tickets for the New Year’s Day Gala at the Barbican.

“I’ve, erm, heard you listening to classical music on the radio of the DTT,” Harry admitted. “So I thought you’d enjoy going to an actual live concert? The gala is supposed to be quite fun.”

Louis tried to bite back his grin, but couldn’t, his eyes crinkling and nose scrunching. “This is sick, Harry. Thank you so much.”

Harry smiled at him, squeezing his thigh. “You know there’s nothing wrong with liking classical music, right? No need to hide it?”

Louis gave a bit of a shrug, head lowered as he slipped the tickets back into the envelope. “Yeah, I don’t really know why I—” He shook his head and the smile returned to his face. “I’d never really listened to any before. But one night I couldn’t sleep, and I was flipping through all the channels and I started listening to it. And I loved it.”

“That’s great, Lou.”

Harry’s expression was so gentle and so unmistakably fond it took Louis’ breath away. “Harry—”

The sound of somebody coming down the stairs interrupted him, but Harry cupped his jaw and gave him a quick, sweet kiss before Gemma reached the living room.

*

Louis jumped up from the couch to follow Harry into the kitchen, leaning against the refrigerator to watch Harry as he fiddled around the oven.

“Babe, can you hand me the baster, please?”

Louis looked around at the assortment of cooking utensils and foodstuff spread out on the table and over the countertop. “What _is_ that?” he asked, stumped, picking up a garlic press.

Harry located the baster with one sweeping look around the kitchen and made a grab for it, smacking a kiss on Louis’ cheek as he stepped around him. “You know you don’t have to come with me every time I get up to check on the turkey, yeah?”

Louis made a low, inarticulate sound, crossing his arms over his chest and hunching in on himself, staring at a stain of what might have been cranberry sauce on the floor with stinging eyes.

He didn’t notice Harry had moved until he was in front of him, bracketing him with one hand on the refrigerator door next to his head, and wrapping the other hand around the back of Louis’ neck, drawing soothing circles with his thumb.

“Hey. Louis, I don’t mind—I love being with you.” Harry had a crease between his eyebrows and his voice was low and earnest. “I just... I don’t understand ‘cause you spent like two hours chatting with my mum this morning after breakfast and you seemed fine—”

“I _am_ fine. It’s fine, Harry. I’m sorry. Let’s get back, yeah? We’re missing the show.”

Harry shook his head, brow furrowing further, in deep thought. “Is it Robin?” he asked, obviously hazarding a guess. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you my mum’s boyfriend was joining us. But he’s really nice, Lou, honest.”

Louis raised a hand to smooth the lines from Harry’s forehead with two fingers. “I know he is.” He let out a shuddering breath. “I’m just on edge, Harry. The last time I spent Christmas with, like, a 'mum and dad', I was nine, and it didn’t—I’m sorry.”

Harry looked at him with wide, sad eyes. “Please, don’t apologize, Lou.” He bit his lip. “Is there anything I can do? To make you feel better?”

That brought a small smile to Louis’ face, and he thumbed at the corner of Harry’s mouth trying to make him smile as well. “I don’t think so, but thanks for asking.”

Harry cupped his face, tilting Louis’ chin up to kiss him.

Neither of them moved after breaking the kiss, Louis thumbing Harry’s lower lip in an absent movement.

“Louis... What happened to your family? Do you know?” Harry asked in a rush, after a long moment. He grimaced immediately afterward. “You don’t have to answer that.”

Louis dropped his hand from Harry’s face to his chest, to the warm skin at the opening of the collar of his jumper. “I remember my mum a bit—even though I must have been three the last time I saw her. My father and her were always fighting. He picked me up from school one day and we never went back home. He told me my mum had thrown him out, and that she didn’t want me either.”

“Louis—” Harry breathed, but Louis went on, voice high and strained.

“I guess he was right, because after a year my father gave me up and she didn’t claim me.”

“Maybe she didn’t know. Maybe she couldn’t find you. A lot of kids get lost in the system.”

Louis shrugged, swallowing with difficulty around the lump in his throat. “No, I get it. I was a difficult kid—they told me I had ADD once, actually. And I think she was young when she had me, so it makes sense she wouldn’t be keen on getting me back.”

Harry stroked his cheek. “You don’t know that for sure.”

“No. And I never will,” Louis snapped. “Can you drop it, please?”

Harry sighed, and Louis let himself fall forward to rest his forehead on Harry’s shoulder. Harry wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly.

Louis shrugged again within Harry’s embrace. “It is what it is. I had a crappy childhood.”

“Still sorry.”

Louis lifted his head to look at Harry. “The turkey’s going to get dry.”

Harry thumbed at the wetness clinging to Louis’ eyelashes. “Doesn’t matter.”

Louis leaned in closer, brushing their lips together.

Then the door swung open after a cursory knock. “Whoops.” Robin chuckled, putting his hands up palms out. “Sorry, lovebirds, didn’t mean to interrupt—I was just fetching Annie a bit of water.”

“I’ll bring it out to her in a moment, Robin,” Harry said with a tight smile.

Robin looked from one to the other. “Uh, all right.”

Louis stepped on Harry’s toes so that he would move. “Don’t be silly, I’ll take her the water myself. I’m missing the show anyway.”

“You sure?” Harry asked.

“Yeah.”

Harry handed him a glass for the water. “I’ll join you in a minute,” he said.

Louis smiled at him, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek after a fleeting glance at Robin. “Thanks, love.”

 *

Anne adjusted the scarf around Louis’ neck as a gust of cold wind blew around them, making the wind chimes above the front door ring.

“Don’t want you catching cold,” she said.

Louis bit back a laugh: both Harry and Gemma were bundled up against the cold, their faces hidden behind hoods and scarves where they were standing by the car, chatting. “Thanks, Anne.”

Anne chuckled. “I won’t apologize for my mothering.”

Louis gave her a small smile, shaking his head wistfully. “Please don’t. You should be proud, raising Gemma and Harry like you have.”

“Thank you, sweetheart.” She took both of his hands in her own. “You told me you didn’t have much of a family, but I can tell you you’ve done a very good job raising yourself.”

Louis’ mouth twitched with a small huff of laughter.

“But you deserve to let someone take care of you for a change, hm?” Anne went on in a soft voice.

Louis ducked his head. “Harry’s so good. He deserves—He shouldn’t have to take care of me,” he mumbled, without meeting Anne’s eyes.

Anne squeezed his hands. “Oh, _Louis_. When Harry told me he was bringing somebody _here_ , to Holmes Chapel, I knew they had to be special. And I was right. It’s so hard to believe you’ve known each other for only—what is it? two months?”

Louis nodded, forcing himself to look at Anne, who smiled at him with palpable tenderness.

“Harry’s a sweet boy. He always has been. And I _have_ worried—about people taking advantage of him, or him getting hurt for caring so much—but seeing my baby like this, how he is with you. You have no idea how happy you make him. And that’s all a mother can want. I don’t care about anything else.”

Speechless, all Louis could do was give Anne a long hug, until Harry came along and put his arms around them both, with a playful, ‘Heeey, I want a hug too’ that made them all laugh.

*

Liam set his glass down on the bar top with resolve. “I’m going kiss her.”

Louis nodded in an absent gesture, distracted by Harry dancing in place while he chatted to one of Niall’s friends. The house was crowded, but Harry stood out in sharp relief for Louis. Mesmerized by the undulating movement of Harry’s hips, Louis was disoriented when Liam grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around to face him.

“Louis, I’m very happy for you and Harry, but I need you with me right now,” Liam said, working out the words with drunken deliberation.

Louis caved under Liam’s puppy-eyes. “All right. I’m here: New Year’s Eve party at Niall’s secret hideout house. What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to kiss her. At midnight.” Liam gave a sharp nod.

Louis pressed his lips together to hold back his laughter. “Right. So what are you doing here? It’s almost ten to midnight. Shouldn’t you be laying the groundwork? Securing your position?”

Liam giggled, his hands slipping from Louis’ shoulders, head lolling.

“Less drunk might’ve been a good idea too.”

Liam raised his head with a beady-eyed glare. “I needed liquid courage... and support.”

Louis cooed at him through his laughter and squished his cheeks. “I believe in you, Liam James Payne. You’re a top-notch lad. And if it’s not Sophia, then someone else will come along.”

Liam’s lip wobbled. “Thanks, mate.”

He hauled Louis into a bear hug, and Louis had to clap him on the back a few times before he let him go.

Louis was tugging down his shirt when another set of arms wrapped around him from behind, one arm across his chest and the other hooked around his neck. “Lou. Louiiis,” Harry sing-songed, drawing out his name. He had a bottle of champagne in one hand and no glasses.

“Where’d you even get a bottle?” Liam asked, baffled.

“I know people,” Harry replied, playing mysterious. He had his face pressed right up against Louis’ so that Louis could feel his cheeks puffing out when he grinned. “It’s Niall. I know Niall. I’ve been here before. I know where he keeps the alcohol.”

Liam squinted at the bottle when Harry passed it over. “It’s half empty!”

Louis laughed, and felt Harry’s chest shaking with laughter curled around his back.

“Whoops. Sorry!”

Liam shook his head, but smiled at Harry fondly—until Harry started kissing Louis’ neck.

“Right. I’m off,” Liam said.

“Good luck!” Louis called after him, Harry echoing him.

“Why does he need luck?” Harry asked, once Liam was gone.

Louis giggled, turning around in Harry’s arms and giving him a succession of light, quick kisses that made Harry stretch his neck, chasing after Louis’ lips.

“It’s not midnight yet, you two!” Niall shouted at them in passing. “Come check out the fireworks!”

The room began to clear out as everyone followed Niall outside to backyard deck.

“I hate fireworks,” Harry grumbled, looping his arms around Louis’ waist and clasping his hands in the dip of his lower back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. They hurt my ears.”

Louis cupped his hands around both of Harry’s ears, and moved his head from side to side gently. “Your itty bitty ears?”

“I’m delicate.” Harry giggled.

Louis moved his hands down to Harry’s cheeks. “Like a flower,” he agreed, grinning when Harry rubbed their noses together in an eskimo kiss.

They separated to smile at each other, and Louis laced his fingers at the back of Harry’s neck. Harry’s eyes dropped to Louis’ lips, and Louis flicked his tongue out to wet them automatically.

“Lou, are you okay to drive?” Harry asked, voice gruff.

“Yeah. Is something wrong?”

Harry nodded, brow furrowed. “I need to take my clothes off. And I need you to take your clothes off.”

Louis gaped at him for a second then burst out laughing.

“It’s an urgent need!” Harry protested, pouting.

There was no one inside but them at this point, everyone outside on the patio, waiting for the countdown.

Louis stepped closer so that their bodies were touching from their thighs to their chests. “How urgent?” he asked playfully.

“The walls were paper thin, and we can’t keep quiet, and it’s been a week,” Harry replied in a drawl, nipping at his jaw, and rubbing against him, letting Louis feel his growing erection against his hipbone. “Urgent.”

“I wanked in the shower thinking of you,” Louis whispered, heat pooling in his lower belly. He had to raise himself on his tiptoes in order to be able to take Harry’s earlobe between his teeth and give it a gentle tug.

Harry groaned low in his throat, then gripped the back of Louis’ thighs and hoisted him onto the bar, startling Louis who clutched at his shoulders in alarm at the sudden change in position.

Harry stood between his legs and Louis wrapped his ankles around the back of his thighs. “If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d kick you for that.”

“Sorry, babe,” Harry said. “I’m resisting the urge to throw you over my shoulder and run off with you like a caveman.”

Louis smothered his laughter against Harry’s chest. After a thoughtful moment of deliberation, he dragged his tongue over Harry’s left nipple and then sucked it into his mouth, leaving a wet spot on the thin fabric of his shirt.

Harry gave a sharp inhalation. “Fuck, _Louis,_ let's go. Want you so badly. Need you.”

Louis bit his lip, his own breathing quickening, and knotted his fingers in Harry’s hair to drag him down for a heated, breathless kiss.

The crowd outside was audible, but seemed muted to Louis in the haze of arousal.

 _Three_.

Harry fit his hands around Louis’ waist, drawing him closer, to the very edge of the bar. “I want you to fuck me, Lou.”

_Two._

_One._

There was an eruption of noise from outside, and Harry surged forward to capture his mouth. Harry tasted like champagne and chips, and Louis moaned into his mouth, the sound drowned out by the noise outside.

“Happy New Year,” Louis gasped, sliding off the countertop as the fireworks started going off. “Now let’s go.”

The cheering from the party was still going on while they slipped out of the house. 

 

It was a short drive back to the flat, and they raced each other up the stairs, laughing.

Louis reached the landing on their floor first, but Harry was half-undressed in the time it took Louis to fit the key in the lock and open the door.

“Eager, are you?” Louis teased, as Harry hurried to unzip his boots and wrestle out of his jeans and pants the moment they stepped inside.

“I’m going to pick you up now,” Harry announced, standing naked in the entrance hall while Louis toed off his shoes.

“Wha—” Louis was cut off as Harry bent down and picked him up, with an arm around his back and the other around the bend of his knees. Louis instinctively put his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Harold!” Louis pinched the back of his neck when Harry grinned at him, unrepentant, walking them to the bedroom.

“What? I asked this time!” Harry argued, twirling them around in place just to turn sideways so they could fit through the door.

Louis snorted as Harry put him down on the bed. “That wasn’t asking, you dolt.”

Harry’s grin was shameless as he crouched at the foot of the bed between Louis’ legs. “May I please take off your clothes?” he asked, obviously stifling laughter, his hands cupping Louis’ knees.

Louis put on a dignified expression as he nodded, waving a hand in a go-ahead gesture.

Harry spread Louis’ legs wider as he smoothed his hands up the inside of Louis’ thighs. Louis’ hips bucked when Harry pressed down with his thumb following the line of the crotch seam, before unbuttoning his trousers and pulling down the zipper.

Louis’ exhalation came out in a stutter when Harry leaned forward to nose at his lower belly. He moaned when Harry started mouthing at the curve of his swelling cock, hot and damp through his underwear.

Harry raised his head, licking his lips while staring at Louis, who whipped his shirt over his head, breathing hard. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you,” Louis said, voice high pitched.

Harry got to his feet, chuckling. “Eager, are we?” he teased as he tugged off Louis’ jeans and pants.

Louis moved to rest against the headboard. “Yes. Now grab the lube and get over here.”

Harry wiggled his arse as he fetched the bottle of lube from the drawer, while Louis smoothed a hand over his own chest, resisting the urge to touch his cock.

“I’m going to ride you,” Harry informed him, as he sat astride Louis’ thighs, uncapping the bottle and pouring lube onto his fingers.

“Yeah?” Louis breathed, riveted at the sight of Harry shifting to push a finger inside himself.

Harry nodded, mouth open, pink and wet, as he stretched himself open. Louis grabbed the lube and squirted some on his fingers, then reached between Harry’s legs. Harry groaned when Louis pushed in a finger alongside Harry’s, pressing the knuckles of his other fingers against his perineum. “Gonna fuck me so good, Lou.”

He rocked back onto their fingers, moaning when Louis pushed in another finger, gripping onto his thigh with his other hand.

“C’mon, babe, fuck me.” Harry shuffled forward on his knees, and reached to guide Louis’ cock to his hole once Louis had slicked himself up with the fingers that had just been inside of Harry.

Louis whimpered as Harry eased himself down on his cock, braced against the headboard with one hand. Harry started moving his pelvis in tight circles as he sat on Louis’ cock.

“Fuck, Harry. You’re so tight.”

Harry pushed his hair over his shoulder and out of his face, though strands clung to his sweaty temple while he started riding Louis. “This is much better than fireworks,” he said, panting each word as he sank back down on Louis’ cock.

Louis’ laughter was breathless.

“So good, Lou. Giving it to me like that.”

Louis took his hand off Harry’s thigh and brought it to his mouth, sucking on his fingers to get them wet while Harry watched him, slack-jawed. His rhythm faltered for an instant when Louis gripped his cock and started jerking him off.

“How are you real?” Louis gasped as Harry squeezed around his cock.

“Gonna come. That's it. _Fuck_ —”

Harry shuddered to a standstill when he came, throwing his head back.

Louis looked up at him with his mouth open, breathing hard.

After a moment, chest heaving and hole still clenching spasmodically around Louis' cock, Harry stooped down to kiss him. “C’mon, babe. Get me all wet.”

" _Harry_." Louis thrust up into him frantically—Harry panting, hot and damp, between his neck and shoulder—until he came, biting down hard on his lip.

After a moment, Harry lifted himself off his cock and keeled over next Louis.

“Is it always going to be this good with you?” Harry asked, grinning up at Louis, even though his eyelids were drooping with tiredness.

Louis moved down to curl around Harry, wrapping his arm around his waist and throwing a leg over Harry’s. “Probably,” he replied, matter-of-fact.

Harry cackled, then sighed. “That’s good.” He laced their fingers together over his chest, despite the stickiness.

Louis smiled against Harry’s chest.

“I don’t want to get up,” Harry mumbled, eyes closed.

Louis pressed a kiss to his side, raising himself on an elbow. “I’ll get you a flannel, and water, and set the alarm for tomorrow.”

Harry opened one eye and smiled at him dopily. “Thanks, Lou.”

Louis got out of bed and found his mobile. “The concert’s not till two, right? Time to shower and eat breakfast...”

Harry hummed. “And time for me to give you a blowjob,” he said, slurring. “‘s important.”

Louis couldn’t contain his fond smile. “‘m not gonna argue with you on this.”

Harry’s lips curved and he let out a small chuckle. “Good.”


	5. Chapter 5

Harry rubbed his eyes with the back of one hand, fumbling blindly for the flat key with the other. He yawned just as he was about to open the door, and hit himself in the face with the heavy bundle of keys when he automatically raised a hand to cover his mouth.

“Ouch.”

Once inside the flat, he set down his bag, stretching his back with a groan after shrugging out of his coat. He was about to take off his shoes when he saw the light coming from the kitchen.

Louis didn’t hear him coming even though Harry hadn’t taken off his boots, and Harry watched him for a long moment as he poked at something in the skillet. Louis was barefoot, toes curled because of the cold tile floor, wearing a loose pair of joggers and one of Harry’s tee shirts. Harry didn’t even notice the mess in the kitchen at first: the pile of bowls, the batter dripping from the countertop, the overturned bag of sugar on the table. Louis’ dressing gown was draped over the back of a chair.

Harry cleared his throat as he stepped into the kitchen. “Louis, babe, what are you doing? Why aren’t you in bed? It’s six in the morning.”

Louis didn’t turn around, but the tension in his shoulders increased. “I’m making you breakfast, what does it look like?”

“That’s sweet.” Harry went over to stand behind Louis, resting his chin on his shoulder and peeking over it at the pan. “Pancakes? They look... good.”

Louis tried to shrug him off, half-heartedly. “No they don’t. They’re shit.” He threw the wooden spoon on the counter and turned off the fire, then dumped the pancakes on a plate with a huff.

“No, no. Just a little... overcooked, maybe? But it’s hard to flip them, I know. Let me try them.” Harry took the plate and opened the drawer to get a fork.

“Don’t be stupid. Don’t eat that!” Louis said, trying to grab the plate.

Harry held it up higher, almost out of his reach. “It’s fine, Lou. Let me—”

Louis managed to tug the plate out of his hands, but pulled too hard, so that it slipped out of his grasp and fell to the floor with a crash, breaking.

Louis swore through gritted teeth.

Harry winced. “Did you cut yourself?” he asked, peering at Louis’ bare feet surrounded by the shards of ceramic.

Louis shook his head, head lowered.

“Don’t move, I’ll fetch the broom.”

Harry sprinted out of the kitchen and came back with the broom and dustpan, sweeping fragments of plate to a side to open a path for Louis.

“Maybe we should hoover? Some of the pieces are tiny,” Harry said, looking up at Louis. He froze when he saw the expression on his face. “Louis?”

Louis started crying, abruptly, the tears spilling down his face. He didn’t make a sound, burying his face in the crook of his elbow.

“Lou! What’s wrong?” Harry rushed to clear the space around Louis.

Louis let him pull down his arm and stepped into the circle of Harry’s arms, but didn’t answer.

“That pancakes weren’t that bad, babe,” Harry tried to joke.

Louis hid his face against Harry's chest.

“Louis. Talk to me? Please?”

For a long minute there was silence, except for Louis’ strained, wet breathing, and the ticking of the kitchen clock.

“How was work?” Louis asked finally, his voice shaking.

“Not bad. The ER’s always a hassle, especially the night shift, but it wasn’t too bad tonight.”

Louis nodded, head still tucked under Harry’s chin. “Are you hungry?”

“Kate brought this delicious homemade raisin bread, so I’m OK.”

Louis nodded again, then sniffed him, nose pressed to the hollow of Harry’s throat. “You showered.”

“Yeah. A drunk man threw up on me, I didn’t want to come home smelling like vomit.”

Louis hummed, but said nothing else. Harry rubbed his back a little while Louis clutched at the front of Harry’s jumper, both hands fisted in the fabric, and tucked against his chest.

“Did something happen?” Harry asked. “I _know_ something’s bothering you; you’ve been picking at your food, and waking up in the middle of the night,” he went on, after Louis shook his head ‘no’ at the question.

“I’m sorry I’m keeping you awake,” Louis said with a sob.

“No, no! Louis, I’m just worried about you. And I don’t know how to help because I don’t know what’s wrong,” Harry said. He pulled back, though not enough to dislodge Louis’ grip on his jumper, and succeeded in getting Louis to look up at him with a gentle hand on his cheek. “Can you tell me what it is you’re afraid of? Like we talked about?” he pleaded in a whisper.

Louis took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m afraid I can’t do anything,” he said, voice small and every word coming out with obvious effort. “I can’t get a job. I can’t even fucking cook!”

Harry thumbed at the dark circle under one of his eyes. “You can’t sleep, either. You’re exhausted, Lou, and it’s making everything seem worse than it is.”

Louis shook his head, the movement jerky. “All I’ve ever done is wait tables and wash dishes and shit like that, and most of it was moonlighting, ‘cause it pays better—and now I’ve got a bloody criminal record, and months of unemployment because of the community service. You tell me how the fuck I’m supposed to ever get a proper job. The bit of money I had is gone: I’ve a five pound note in my wallet; that’s _it_. I’m fucking useless. Worthless. I’m just a burden to you,” he spat out.

Harry brushed his hair back from his face. “Employability is not the measure of your worth as a person, Lou. And you’re absolutely not a burden.” He swallowed thickly.  “You’re kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me, actually.”

Louis looked at Harry for a long moment, eyes wet, then folded himself back into Harry’s embrace. “I won’t even be able to get you a proper gift for your birthday,” he mumbled.

Harry pressed his cheek to Louis’ hair. “You know I couldn’t care less about that.”

Louis sighed. “I know, love. But I care.”

Harry ran a hand down Louis’ arm, which was covered in goose pimples. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? I’ll make you tea and we’ll cuddle, and sleep till the afternoon, and then order Chinese and forget about everything for a bit, alright? And we’ll figure things out tomorrow.”

Louis shivered, and pressed closer to Harry. “Tomorrow.” He unclenched a hand from its grip on Harry’s jumper, resting his palm on his chest over his heart, fingers spread.

*

“I really don’t know what you and Harry expect her to do. You actually met her, Liam. You know she’s not going to help,” Louis grouched, dragging his feet and slowing down further when Liam motioned at him to hurry up.

Liam walked a few feet in front of him, half-turned around to look at Louis. “It’s her job,” he said shortly, glancing at the watch around his wrist with a frown. “But if we’re not late it might improve her disposition to help.”

Louis rolled his eyes but picked up the pace as they made their way down the hall. “It isn’t, though. Her job was to ‘supervise’ me through community service, and now that that’s over she gets to send me on my merry way. Case closed.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Louis snickered at Liam’s ominous tone. “I’m curious to see your intimidation tactics.”

Liam shot him an unimpressed look. “It worked last time, didn’t it?”

Louis shrugged in reluctant assent, and pushed past him into the waiting room. There was no one inside, and the door to the office where he had first met with his manager was wide open.

Liam gestured for Louis to go ahead, but when Louis hesitated he marched forward himself. He knocked on the doorframe, one foot still outside the office.

“Oh, sorry. We must have the wrong office,” Liam said.

Louis peeked inside, hovering by Liam’s elbow: in place of his disagreeable manager there was an affable looking man sitting behind the desk.

The man half-raised himself in his chair. “Are you looking for Ann-Marie?”

“Yes. We had an appointment—”

The man grinned, clapping his hands together. “Then you _are_ in the right place! She’s just been transferred and I’m taking over her cases.” He motioned at the chairs in front of his desk. “Come in, please, take a seat! Have a lolly.”

There was a bowl of candy in the middle of his desk. Louis and Liam exchanged a glance before they stepped into the office, Liam closing the door behind them.

The man reached over to shake both of their hands with a smile, and waited until Louis and Liam were both seated to sit down again. He laced his fingers over his stomach, swiveling in his chair to look at them straight on. “My name’s James Corden, I’m a social worker... with a bit of a sweet tooth. But please call me James.” He squinted at the computer monitor, turning a bit to be able to use the computer. “And you are... Louis? Louis Tomlinson? Is that right?”

“Yeah.”

James nodded, humming, and looked thoughtfully between the screen and Louis. “I have to say, this is an excellent mug shot.” He turned the monitor so that Louis could see the picture of himself on the screen: he looked positively haggard.

Liam leaned forward in his seat to look at it, then turned to Louis with a wan smile. “You look like you need a blood transfusion.”

Louis huffed with laughter. “I _got_ one at the hospital.”

“It’s kind of scary, actually. You look like a vampire—I should warn Harry.”

Louis kicked the leg of Liam's wobbly chair.

James chuckled, turning to Liam with a smile. “I don’t know who you are?”

Liam immediately went into business mode: straightening in his seat and clearing his throat before speaking. “My name is Liam Payne. I’m an advocate with the Public Defender Service and Louis is one of my—”

“That’s nice,” James interrupted him. “Pleased to meet you both.”

Liam closed his mouth, brow furrowed and pouting.

“Let’s see.” James tapped his pen on his chin as he read the information on the screen. “Just a stamp and signature away from freedom. Fulfilled requisite weeks of community service; checked in at the required dates; passed all your drug tests... Yes, everything seems to be in order. Now, why don’t you tell me about your prospects?”

Louis froze when James swiveled in his chair again to face Louis, giving him his full attention. “What?” he stammered.

“What are your plans for the future?” James clarified. “I’m supposed to make sure you’re not going to go back to a life of crime—not that I’d expect you to tell me, but I have to ask.”

Louis picked at a bit of loose thread in the tattered fabric of the chair’s armrest. “I won’t tell you about the drug cartel in Columbia, then,” he said finally.

James laughed, open and earnest. “That’s fair. Run by an army of undead, I presume?”

“Best employees: they never take a sick day,” Louis replied, struggling to keep a straight face.

James shook with laughter, but Liam ruined the mood when he spoke up. “We’re concerned about his chances of getting a job... given his record, and with no formal qualifications.”

“No qualifications at all,” Louis mumbled, wilting in his chair.

James went serious as well. “It’s a common problem. It can be difficult to afford training courses, or to focus on studying when there are more pressing worries at home,” he said gently.

Louis stared at him in surprise, then nodded slowly in agreement.

“But that’s what we’re here for: to help you move on from difficult circumstances,” James continued, with a sharp, encouraging nod.

“I thought you were here to punish me,” Louis said, with the barest hint of humour in his voice.

“Oh no, we don’t do that kind of thing around here. The stake through the heart is barbaric, and current policy prohibits the use of holy water.” James cupped his hands around his mouth and made a show of breathing into them and sniffing. “No dangerous amounts of garlic, either.”

It startled another laugh out of Louis, and this time Liam joined in, his whole face scrunching up in amusement.

James looked well-satisfied, a grin on his face, as he glanced at the screen again. “You seem like a bright boy, any interest in taking your A-levels? It’s government financed, and you can either go to night school or do it online.”

Louis went back to scratching at the arm rest. “I don’t know... I was never a good student,” he said. After a moment, he summoned a weak grin. “My geography teacher in sixth form told me I was a lost cause.”

James rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I never thought geography teachers could see into the future. If it were astrology at least...”

Liam nudged him with his foot. “You should do it, mate. If _I_ could make it through law school, you can definitely do this, and more.”

James smiled at Liam before turning to Louis with an encouraging expression. “So what do you think? There’s still time to enroll in a few classes this semester. And there are other courses you can take in the meantime. Paid courses. Sound good?”

Louis let his breath out slowly. “Yeah, it does. What’ve you got?”

*

The class took place in the basement of the local community center. Cool and damp in the winter, the sound of the sewing machines reverberated in the enclosed space and the instructor’s footsteps echoed dully on the concrete floor.

Louis perched on a worn, plastic stool, the tip of his tongue out as he threaded the needle on the sewing machine, squinting in the fluorescent lighting. He set the square of cloth under the presser foot and lowered the needle, then pressed the foot pedal, carefully, stitching an inch in a more or less straight line.

“Not bad.” The instructor had stopped by his table, where he was sitting alone because his sitting partner hadn’t arrived. “Have you ever used a sewing machine before?”

“Yeah, but it’s been years.” Louis shook his head, amazed at the sudden realization. “Almost six years.”

The instructor, a middle-aged woman with a soft voice, clucked her tongue in understanding. “Time flies, doesn’t it?” she sighed, then shook herself. “Well, it’s like riding a bike. You’ll have the hang of it again in no time, you’ll see.”

There was a knock on the door, in a rhythmic pattern, before it opened and a young girl in heavy make-up walked in, stuffing her phone into her bag. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I couldn’t find the place, and—” Her mouth fell open when she saw Louis. “ _Oh my god!_ Louis!” she squealed.

“Perrie!” Louis gasped, jumping off the stool.

The class stared at them as they embraced, both of them teary-eyed.

Perrie pulled back first but held onto his hands as she looked him over. “You look so good, sweetheart!”

Louis squeezed her hands. “You look fantastic, love. How are you? And the girls?”

“We’re good. Jessy’s getting married! And she’s not pregnant or anything!” Perrie said, laughing and hopping in place with excitement. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do!”

After the class, they lingered in the cafeteria with bad coffee and vending machine sandwiches while they chatted.

“So you haven’t heard from Zayn?” Louis asked in a small voice, ripping a paper napkin into little pieces, hands resting on the table in front of him.

Perrie made a rueful face. “Nah. You know we weren’t that serious. I wasn’t really surprised when he just disappeared, you know. The only person that I saw he ever really cared about is _you_.”

Louis’ attempt at an amused snort came out as a half-strangled sound of distress, and he had to rub the stinging from his eyes before he could look at Perrie again.

Perrie rubbed his arm sympathetically. “You want to tell me what happened with you two? Did you get mixed up in some dirty business or something’? Because these two guys came asking after Zayn one time—”

“What?” Louis asked, shocked. “Who? When?”

“I don’t know, um, ‘round Christmas, I think? They didn’t give us names, just said Zee owed them some money and to get in touch if we saw him.”

Louis bit his fingernails, frowning. “Just that one time?”

Perrie nodded. “You think he’s in trouble?” she asked.

Louis shrugged. “I’ve no idea. Zayn left, Perrie. He just... left. I called him, over and over again, until it said his number had been suspended. I left a message for him at our old place, and I haven’t changed my mobile. I don’t know—” His voice broke.

Perrie sighed, squeezing his arm. “I guess I was wrong.”

Louis glanced at her in confusion, brow furrowed, unable to speak without his voice shaking. “About what?”

“About Zayn caring about anyone but himself. It turns out the only person Zayn ever really cared about was Zayn.”

Louis downed the last of his lukewarm coffee and didn’t answer.

 *

“I know you’ve never coached before, but these kids are, like, six, so, as long as they have fun kicking the ball around, it’s all good.”

Niall trailed off into silence, picking up from the display a wooden egg-shaped piece with a handle and inspecting it with obvious bemusement. “What the hell is this?” he asked, barely stifling laughter. “It looks like—”

Louis put a hand to his chest in mock outrage. “This is a haberdashery not a sex shop, Niall.”

Niall laughed harder. “Then explain this,” he said, waving the tool in front of Louis’ face.

“That’s a sock darner, you perv,” Louis replied, giggling.

Niall put it back, still chuckling. “I’d never been inside one of these stores before; it’s interesting.”

Louis shot him a fond grin, before turning his attention to a selection of rolls of cloth set out on a table. He went straight to a flower printed chiffon, rubbing a corner between thumb and forefinger thoughtfully.

“That’s very Harry,” Niall commented.

Louis couldn’t help but smile a bit. “It is, isn’t it?”

Niall leaned against the table. “So will you do it? I know it doesn’t pay much, but it’s something, right?”

Louis looked longingly at the roll of cloth, smoothing his palm over it. “Yeah, ‘course I’ll take the job,” he said, turning to face Niall. “It’s perfect, honestly. I don’t know how to thank you, Niall.”

Niall beamed at him, pulling him into a hug. “That’s great! Now stop pining and grab whatever you need,” he said, giving Louis’ arse a light smack when they separated. “Don’t argue, you can pay me back next month.”

 *

The last of the children to leave, mud-spattered and ecstatic, waved at Louis over his father’s shoulder all the way to where his parents had parked the car. Louis waved back until they drove away, then turned, hands on his hips, to look out at the football field. The sun was shining through the clouds, making the wet grass glint, but not giving much warmth. Now that the game was over, the sweat had cooled on his body, and Louis shivered and tucked his hands against his sides.

It took him a moment to register that his phone was ringing; it was Harry calling.

Louis raised the phone to his ear, smiling. “Hi, love.”

“Hey, baby. How was the game?”

“Great. The kids all had a blast, and Mark only scored two own goals, so that’s a win.”

Harry giggled, and Louis could hear shuffling in the background. “It would’ve been three if it hadn’t been for Padma, though.”

Louis went still. “What?”

“Surprise!”

The voice didn’t come through the phone, but from behind him. Louis turned around and Harry waved at him from behind the chain-link fence at the feet of the bleachers.

Louis ran to meet him; Harry going around to the opening in the fence and absorbing the shock of Louis throwing himself at him.

“What are you doing here!?” Louis asked, voice muffled against the collar of Harry’s jacket. “I thought you had to work.”

“I changed my shift. I couldn’t miss your first game!”

Louis pulled back just enough to be able to look at Harry. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, unable to contain a grin.

Harry nodded, looking proud. “For you.”

Louis shook his head, then gave him a quick kiss. “Have you really been here the whole time? I can’t believe I didn’t see you in the stands.”

“I was! You were just full on concentrated. It was adorable.”

Louis flicked him in the ear, and Harry squirmed and grabbed his hand. He rubbed it between his own. “Your hands are like ice. I brought you tea in a thermos, it’s in the car.”

“Thank, Hazza.” Louis kissed him again, nipping at Harry’s lower lip. “I’ve heard the best thing to get warm is a hot shower, though,” he went on, waggling his eyebrows.

Harry grinned, chasing after Louis’ mouth. “You know what’s even better than a hot shower? A hot bath.”

Louis giggled. “Are you going to run me a bath?”

“Yep.”

“Wash my hair? Scrub my back? Massage my feet?”

Harry nodded. “All of that, and more.”

Louis bit his lip. “What else?” he asked, teasing.

Harry pressed his lips behind Louis’ ear. “After the bath, I’m going to lay you out on the bed and eat you out until my jaw cramps, until you’re begging for me to get my cock in you, and then I’m going to fuck that tight little hole of yours until you can’t remember your own name.”

Louis swallowed with some difficulty, his mouth gone completely dry. He felt Harry smirking against his neck.

“Can we—” Louis cleared his throat. “Can we get some lunch first? I’m starving,” he said finally.

Harry let out a cackle, face-palming with his forehead against Louis’ shoulder. He stood for half a minute, his whole body shaking with laughter, then pulled back to look into Louis’ face, smiling, eyes shining and soft. “Lou, I—”

Louis pressed his thumb to the dimple on Harry’s cheek, brushing his cold knuckles against Harry’s cheek.

Harry’s phone started ringing, making them both jump.

Louis stepped back. “Take the call, love. I’m going to get my bag and we can head back to the flat.”

With a sigh, Harry pulled the phone out of his pocket.

When Louis had got his backpack, Harry took his hand to lead him to where he had parked the car. “I don’t know, mum. I don’t think so. Can’t you find out?”

Louis looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye: Harry sounded tense.

“I can’t really talk now. Call me later?”

Louis frowned, nudging Harry and mouthing ‘it’s fine’, but Harry only shook his head slightly and gave him a tight smile. “OK, thanks, mum. Love you. You too, bye.”

“What was that about?” Louis asked as they reached the car.

“Nothing important. So, what do you want for lunch, babe?”

Louis went around to get into the passenger seat with a quizzical, hurt frown, but he didn’t say anything further and neither did Harry.

*

 “So... where are we going?” Harry asked, rapping a beat on his thighs with his palms after fastening his seat belt.

Louis looked up from his careful inspection of the dashboard. “It’s a surprise, Hazza. That means you don’t know until we get there,” he said, taking one hand off the wheel to tap two fingers to Harry’s jaw.

Harry caught his hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist before letting him go. “And when will we get there?”

Louis rolled his eyes. “We’ll get there when we get there—in about an hour. Now stop distracting me, I need to concentrate to drive.”

Harry bit back laughter. “All right, babe. I’ll sit tight—pretend I’m not even here,” he said, then pretended to zip his mouth closed and tucked his hands under his thighs.

Louis stuck his tongue out at him before turning to look forward, brow furrowed, as he started the car. “Good plan.”  
   
  
   
Harry hung back as they neared the entrance gate of the amusement park. There was a short queue, but it moved fast, and the park itself appeared to be quite empty: although the sun had come out after noon, it was still cold, and the park had just reopened after being closed for the winter.

Harry tugged on Louis’ sleeve while Louis got their tickets. “Uh, Lou. I really appreciate this, but, um, I’m kind of scared of roller-coasters.”

Louis took his hand and held it palm down for the cashier to stamp. “I know, love. That’s why we’re here... why _I’m_ here, with you.”

Harry let Louis guide him with a hand on the small of his back into the park. “If anyone can get me to like roller-coasters it’s you, Louis, but I’m really not—”

Louis stuck out his bottom lip in a pout and blinked up at him. “Won’t you let me try?”

Harry took a deep breath. “Will you hold my hand on every ride?”

Louis’ pout turned into a bright smile. “I won’t let go the whole time. Promise.”

Harry cast a leery look around, before squaring his shoulders. “OK. Let’s do this.”  
   
  
   
Harry kept his eyes shut tight until the cart came to a full stop.

“Ah.”

Louis giggled, and climbed over him out of the cart to offer him a hand getting to his feet. Harry wobbled out of the ride, pulling Louis to a side.

“I need a moment—” Harry said. “To fix my hair.”

Louis let out a huff of laughter, smiling at Harry as he put his hair up into a bun. “Me too... to get the feeling back in my hand,” he said, flexing his hand with an exaggerated wince.

Harry groaned. “Sorry.”

Louis pinched his chin between thumb and forefinger, and cooed at him. “Don’t be. Was it so bad?”

Harry made a face, nose wrinkled, until Louis gave him a quick kiss, one hand on Harry’s waist. “Wanna try another?” he asked. When Harry hesitated, Louis kissed him again, lingering a little to let their lips move against each other, sucking Harry’s bottom lip into his mouth.

Harry let his breath out in a rush. “Will it get me another kiss like that one?”

Louis chuckled, giving Harry’s waist a squeeze. “Yes. But only after.”

“Deal.”  
   
  
   
“How’re you feeling?” Louis asked when they got off their ninth roller-coaster ride.

Harry dropped onto a bench, stretching out his legs with Louis standing between them. “Dizzy.”

“Harold! D’you feel sick? Why didn’t you say?” Louis cupped Harry’s face in his hands, smoothing his thumbs over his cheeks. “We would’ve taken a break, you idiot.”

“Dizzy with kisses,” Harry amended, grinning up at Louis. “And you owe me one, by the way.” He tilted his face up, eyes closed and lips puckered.

“I might bite you right now,” Louis pretended to grouch, pulling on Harry’s earlobes.

Harry cracked one eye open to squint at him. “But it’s working!” he whined. “The positive feedback loop is working.”

Louis couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah? Wanna go on the big one?” he asked, pointing at the tallest roller-coaster in the park.

Harry put his hands on Louis’ hips, pulling him closer. “I’m going to need a powerful incentive for that one.”

Louis hummed in thought and leaned in with one knee on the bench, pressed against Harry’s crotch. “I’ll suck you off in the backseat of the car after,” he whispered into Harry’s ear.

Harry was on his feet and pulling Louis by the hand toward the ride in an instant. “Let’s do this.”  
   
  
   
“So when do I get my prize?” Harry asked, teasing, as they stumbled off the ride. The sun was setting, and their shadows were long and thin, merging into each other as they walked side by side.

Louis tightened his grip around Harry’s waist. “Right now.”

“ _Right now?_ ” Harry repeated in surprise, stumbling on the smooth paving.

Louis bumped their hips together. “Yeah. We’re driving somewhere else for dinner anyway.”

Harry nodded, in a bit of a daze. “OK,” he said faintly.

In the parking lot, which was empty except for a few scattered cars, Harry scrambled inside, unbuttoning his jeans as he settled in the backseat. Louis climbed in after him, pushing the passenger seat forward so he could fit on the floor between Harry’s legs.

Louis raised his eyebrows when he saw that Harry had his cock out already, jeans and pants pushed half-way down his thighs.

Harry gave his half-hard cock a few slow pulls, his gaze dropping to Louis’ mouth. “Want you,” he said simply.

Brushing his fringe to the side, Louis braced himself with one hand on Harry’s hip and nuzzled up the inside of his thigh. He massaged Harry’s sack in his hand as he tongued at the base of his cock, then traced a prominent vein up and down the shaft with the tip of his tongue.

“That’s it,” Harry breathed when Louis curled his tongue around the head and took Harry's cock into his mouth. Harry buried his fingers in Louis’ hair and scratched his scalp lightly while Louis sucked him, moving up and down in an unhurried, steady movement. "Love that."

Louis made an appreciative sound low in his throat, glancing up at Harry through his eyelashes.

" _Fuck_." Harry's hips jerked upward in an uncontrollable reaction, making Louis choke a little, short fingernails digging into Harry's thigh.

"Shit! _Sorry_!" Harry gasped. He unclenched his fingers, loosening his reflexive grip on Louis' hair. " _Sorry_ , babe."

Louis pulled off, licking his lips. “Not all of us were born without a gag reflex, Harold,” he said with a cough.

Harry’s laugh was breathless. “Sorry, Lou,” he said, expression contrite, petting Louis' hair.

Louis nipped at the thin skin over Harry's hipbone. “It's fine, Hazza. Now shut up and let me concentrate.”

Harry’s laughter dissolved into a moan when Louis sucked the head of his cock back in his mouth, tongue tracing circles around the slit, then sank down the shaft, further than before.

“Louis—”

Both of them froze at the sound of voices passing near the car. Harry bit down on his lip hard, swallowing back a moan as Louis sank down until he took most of Harry in his mouth, his throat working around his cock for a beat as the voices grew faint before he pulled off, breathing hard.

Louis looked up at Harry: a string of saliva and precome bridging between the head of Harry’s cock and his parted lips, red and wet.

“ _Fuck_. Look at you.” Harry gaped at him, breath stuttering. “ _Louis_. So hot. Shit. I’m gonna come. I'm gonna come.”

Louis stripped the shaft with his hand, suckling at the head until Harry came with an inarticulate groan. He thumped the back of his head against the seat as Louis swallowed, then laved the wet, sensitive head with his tongue, before drawing back, licking his lips again.

“Harry? Are you dead?” Louis asked playfully, crawling up to sit next to him. “We still have to get dinner.”

Harry turned his head and reached for Louis, pulling him into a lazy kiss. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.” He continued mouthing praise against Louis’ neck as he cupped him over his jeans, squeezing the outline of his cock. He slipped his hand under Louis’ jumper, smoothing up his abdomen and chest, rubbing his palm over his nipples.

“Don't—I didn’t... I didn't bring a... a change of clothes,” Louis stammered as Harry rubbed his cock over his jeans.

Harry finished sucking a bruise onto Louis’ neck before drawing back to pull his cock out. “There you go.” He slid his hand up and down Louis’ cock in a tight grip, slick with precome. "You’re so hard, babe. You're close, aren't you?"

Louis nodded, biting his lip through a moan when Harry thumbed the head of his cock, pressing against the slit.

“I’m gonna make you come. Want to see your face when you come, Lou. So fucking beautiful.”

Louis’ hips bucked, pushing his cock into Harry’s fist. “Please, _Harry_.”

It didn’t take much longer for Louis to come, whimpering, spilling all over Harry’s fingers.

Harry pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Not a drop on your clothes, Lou,” he said, raising his hand—come webbing between his fingers as he spread them out—to Louis’ line of sight.

Louis’ giggle was weak and his movements sluggish as he struggled to sit up straight. “Wait a sec, love, I’ve got handkerchiefs; I came prepared.”

Harry brought his hand to his mouth and licked it clean, staring at Louis all the while, the corner of his mouth curled up even as he sucked his fingers into his mouth.

Louis blinked at him. “That works too.”

 

It had turned dark by the time they pulled out of the parking lot and got back on the road. They made a stop at an Indian restaurant to pick up their dinner, then headed out onto the motorway.

It wasn’t long before Harry peered out the window in confusion. “Are we going to the airport?”

“Sort of.”  
   
  
   
Once he had turned off the engine, Louis chanced a peek at Harry, who was staring out the windshield, round-eyed.

“This is it.”

Harry turned to look at him, mouth agape. “Louis. It’s beautiful.”

From their position they could see the wide expanse of Heathrow airport, all lit up: a bright and multicolored landscape of lights. The noise of the planes taking off and landing was distant; a dull drone.

"Yeah?" Louis bit his lip. "I know it's more than a month late but I wanted to do something special for your birthday, since I couldn't even get your a proper gift."

"Is that what today was? But you already made me that beautiful shirt!"

Louis scoffed.

Harry shook his head in amazement. "You didn't have to do any of this, baby." He leaned in to give Louis a kiss. "But thank you. It's been brilliant, Lou."

Louis smiled and pushed the seat back so that he could sit cross-legged. He made grabby-hands at the bag with their dinner at Harry’s feet.

“How did you even find this place?” Harry asked curiously, reaching into the bag and starting to pull out containers, balancing them on the dashboard.

Louis took his soda from Harry and leaned back against the door. “When I was ten I lived around here for a bit, with a foster family. They were... um. Well, I didn’t like to be in the house after school, so I used to ride my bike around the airport... and one day I found this spot.”

“It’s a nice spot,” Harry said, voice quiet and full of sympathy, resting his hand on Louis’ knee.

Louis smiled a little and laced their fingers together. “It is.” He looked out at a plane moving down the strip, about to take off. “I’ve never brought anyone here before. It always felt like a place to... a place escape to.”

Harry squeezed his hand. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Louis took a deep breath, and looked back at Harry with an obvious effort. “Harry, you’re... really special to me. You’re... you’re so wonderful. And I still don’t... I still don’t understand how I got so lucky—”

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Louis shushed him. “And I suppose it’s obvious, but I don’t want you to have any doubts that I’m... that I’m in love with you.”

Harry gaped at him. “You are?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Of course I am.” Louis’ hands were sweating. “Harry Edward Styles, I love you.”

The brightest smile dawned on Harry’s face. He pulled Louis toward him—ignoring the sound of complaint when he almost made Louis spill his drink—and started kissing him all over his face.

Louis broke out in helpless giggles as Harry pressed a kiss to his nose and each of his eyelids: quick, light kisses, and in between a euphoric repetition of ‘I love you’.

“All right! All right!” Louis grabbed Harry’s face between his hands and kissed him on the lips, though it was difficult with how big both of them were smiling.

“That was for all the times I’ve wanted to say it before but didn’t,” Harry said, sneaking in a final kiss on Louis’ cheek.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I was afraid I’d scare you off.” Harry ducked his head, blushing. “I was afraid you wouldn’t say it back.”

Louis stared at him wide-eyed, leaning with one elbow against the steering wheel. “Harry, you _idiot._ ”

It startled a laugh out of Harry. “It was a legitimate concern!”

“It really wasn’t.” Louis said in a small voice, reaching out for Harry.

Harry took his hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling. “I love you, Lou.”

“I love you too.”  
 


	6. Chapter 6

Louis and Niall both looked up from their sprawl on the couch as Harry walked into the living room.

Niall waved at him with a beer in his hand. “Harry! You’re just in time for the second half of the game, mate. You might want to start cooking the chicken, though; I brought over the ingredients for you to make fajitas. Even washed out the veggies for you.”

Harry shot him an incredulous look. “ _Thanks_ , Niall,” he said, deadpan.

Niall cackled. “You’re welcome.”

Louis tilted his head up as Harry went around the back of the couch, resting his elbows at either side of Louis’ head and leaning in to kiss him upside down. “He followed me home, Hazza. I tried to shake him off, but he’s stubborn.”

“That I am.”

“Like mold,” Louis clarified.

Niall burst into laughter, almost upsetting the bowl of crisps on his lap.

“Where’ve you been anyway?” he asked Harry, once he’d calmed down. “Oh, and I brought some of that beer you like, so stop complaining.”

“The _only_ beer he likes,” Louis said, poking Harry’s dimple. Harry blew a raspberry against the side of Louis’ neck, making him squirm.

“Yeah, that one. So what’ve you been up to?” Niall squinted at Harry. “Your eyes are kind of red.”

Louis’ brow furrowed a little and he turned his body to be able to look at Harry properly.

“And your nose,” Niall added.

“It’s allergies,” Harry said, rolling his eyes but going pink. “And I had to do some overtime at the hospital.”

Niall tilted his head curiously, frowning. “What? I saw Bertha when I got out of work and she said you left early today.”

Harry went very still and so did Louis. “Hazza?” he asked, looking up at Harry in confusion.

Harry scratched the back of his neck, stepping back from the couch toward the kitchen. “Well, it’s not... true. I don’t know. Bertha has a lot of stuff going on. I’m going to go get that beer.”

He hurried out of the room, leaving Louis frozen in shock.

“Maybe Bertha got him mixed up with someone else,” Niall said in a comforting tone.

Louis glanced at him, looking lost, then settled back in the couch. “Yeah. Maybe.”

“Hey. Louis. Harry’s not cheating on you. That's for sure.” Niall stretched—almost falling out of the couch—to reach his shoulder and give it a squeeze.

The shadow of a smile crossed Louis’ face. “Thanks, Niall.”

Harry slunk back into the room, cheeks still pink. He plopped himself down next to Louis, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “So what’ve you two been up to?” he asked with forced casualness.

“Having a blast without you, as usual,” Niall replied, laughing.

Harry grinned, taking a swig out of the beer. “I’m going to send you home without dinner at this rate, Niall. I'm warning you.”

Niall guffawed, but then motioned with his chin at Louis. “Look what you’ve done,” he mouthed, scowling.

Louis had fit himself against Harry’s side, curled up with his legs thrown over one of Harry’s. He had his face hidden against the side of Harry’s neck, nose in the hollow of his throat.

Harry bit his lip, brow furrowed. “Lou? Are you all right, baby?” he whispered, lips pressed to Louis’ hair.

Louis nodded and angled his face to look at the screen, where the game was restarting, but didn’t lift his head. “Yeah. Just a bit tired: Niall’s exhausting.”

“Oi!” Niall protested.

After a bit Louis started getting animated again, and when the game ended and Louis smiled at him, Harry could finally relax.

 *

Harry took a deep breath, shaking out his hair and rubbing his hands together before running them up and down his thighs in a nervous gesture.

Sitting on the couch, Harry perched on the wooden table in front of him, Louis shifted so that their knees knocked together. “Harry, what’s going on?”

After several failed attempts at speaking, Harry reached behind him and set a photo album on Louis’ lap without a word.

Louis gave Harry a long, searching look before turning his attention to the album. The first two pages were pictures of a group of children with a clear family resemblance, in a range of ages: from teenager to a pair of gap-toothed toddlers.

Louis glanced at Harry. “Who are these kids?”

“Turn the page.”

The next two pages were pictures of a boy; old, worn pictures—from a baby in swaddling to a little boy no older than three or four. He was smiling in all of the photos.

Louis’ breath hitched. “What is this? How did you get these?” he asked, trembling as he turned the page.

It was the same boy, and in every picture also a young woman: looking down at the baby in her arms with an adoring expression, or the boy in the circle of her arms while she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Louis!” Harry cried out in alarm, reaching out to grip his shoulder as Louis hunched in on himself, wheezing.

“How?” he gasped, shrugging Harry’s hand off his shoulder.

“My mum knows a lot of people. And she works for the government.”

“Is this some kind of April Fool’s joke? Because it’s not funny,” Louis said, voice cracking.

“April Fool’s was last week, baby.” Harry moved to crouch next to Louis and reached for the photo album. “Look, these are your sisters and your little brother.”

Louis followed Harry’s finger with his eyes as he pointed them out: Charlotte, Felicite, Daisy and Phoebe, Doris and Ernest.

Harry flipped the pages. “And that’s your mum, Johannah. But everyone calls her Jay. She’s a nurse, like me. A midwife. Though she’s not working at the moment.”

Louis was shaking. “Why did you do this?” His voice started out as in a hush and got louder. “You meddling bastard! Why did you do this?”

“I thought—”

“Well you should have fucking asked! You have no idea—”

“Louis, I’ve met her. The last time Niall was over, remember? I _was_ lying about staying overtime at the hospital—I was with her. And we talked and—”

Tears welled up in Louis’ eyes. “Anything else you’ve been lying to me about?”

Harry shook his head frantically. “No, no! Louis, I only... I wanted to make sure she wasn’t—I was terrified of you getting hurt.”

Louis tried to wipe the wetness from his eyes and his cheeks.  “I got hurt when she _abandoned_ me when I was three, Harry.”

Harry tried to take his hand but Louis tugged it out of his grasp. Harry’s hand curled into a fist on his lap. “But she _didn’t_ abandon you, Louis. Your father took you from her. And because they had joint custody the police wouldn’t treat it as an abduction when she first reported it... and there was no trace of you by the time they started looking.”

Louis doubled over, gripping the back of his head.

“There was a missing person’s case open when he gave you up later on, but you got lost in the foster care system and the more time went by the less chance there was of anyone making the connection.” Harry sighed. “Your mum kept going back for years—there are dozens of complaints filed—but there’s little funding for the police to work on old cases. But she tried to find you, Lou! She was the one who gave me all those pictures and she has more of them around the house. She _wanted_ you. She _loves_ you.”

A high, keening noise came from Louis, his fingers tightening in his hair.

Harry’s mouth trembled, jaw clenching as he struggled not to start crying, his whole body tense with the effort not to reach out and touch Louis.

The room was silent except for Louis’ wet, strangled gasps as he cried, violent sobs wracking his whole body, until it stopped all of a sudden after almost a half hour. Louis lurched to his feet, the photo album falling to the floor.

Harry blinked up at him, vision blurred because of the tears. “Louis?”

Louis shoved past him, staggering across the living room and out the front door, slamming it behind him.

 

Louis sat on a bench in a park, the toes of his shoes soaked through from the wet grass and his jumper speckled with rain drops. When his phone vibrated in his pocket, he picked it up with a sigh.

“Did he tell you to call me?” he asked before Liam could say anything.

There was a beat of silence at the end of the line. “No.”

“You’re an awful liar.”

“I’m a lawyer; I can’t be a bad liar.”

Louis chuckled weakly.

“So... how are you?” Liam asked after a long moment, his voice gentle.

Louis shrugged even though Liam couldn’t see him. “Cold.”

“Yeah. Harry said you’d, um, left in a hurry.”

Louis’ mouth twisted and he brought a hand to his mouth, biting his nails. “Liam, did you know?” he asked, choking up.

“No. Harry only explained it to me just now. I promise.”

Louis didn’t answer.

“He thought it would make you happy.”

“Hm.”

“It’s your _mum_ , Louis. And she didn’t abandon you. That’s good news, isn’t it?”

Louis made an indeterminate noise in the back of his throat. “Yes. I guess. I don’t know. It’s... it’s a lot.”

Liam sighed. “Yeah.”

Louis let out a shuddering exhale. “It’s not just that. He’s been keeping this from me for months. Hiding and _lying_ to me. And he didn’t even ask me if it’s what I wanted.”

Liam didn’t say anything while he waited for Louis to stop crying. “I think maybe he was afraid to disappoint you? If he couldn’t find her. Like, afraid to get your hopes up?” he said slowly, thoughtfully.

Louis only sniffled in response.

“Where are you, mate?” Liam asked abruptly, followed by a grunt and the slap of a shoe on the floor.

“I’m not sure.”

“That’s OK. Let’s figure out where you are and I’ll meet up with you, all right?”

“You don’t have to.”

“After all the trouble I’ve gone through to put my shoes on one-handed? Forget it, I’m going to find you.”

Louis breathed out through his nose in mild amusement. “And then what?”

“Whatever you want, Louis. Whatever you need.”

The corner of Louis’ mouth twitched upwards. “Thanks, Liam.”

“No problem.”  
   
  
   
“Should I wait? In case you want to leave?” Liam asked, his hand on Louis’ shoulder, thumb drawing soothing circles over his collarbone.

Louis shook his head. “No. It’s late. Get yourself home. I’m fine.” He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. “I’m not really mad at him.”

Liam opened his arms and Louis stepped into his embrace. Liam cradled the back of his head as he rocked them in place, standing in front of the building in a pool of light from the nearest street lamp.

“I’ll come if you need me. No matter the time, you hear?”

 

Louis couldn’t get the key in the lock. He’d pushed back the sleeves of Liam’s hoodie, which was too big on him, to free his hands, but they were shaking too much and he kept missing the keyhole.

After the second scrape of metal on metal, the door swung open from the inside to reveal Harry: eyes red and eyelids swollen, his hair a complete mess.

They looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

Louis closed the door behind him then turned back to look at Harry. “Hey, love,” he said in a small voice.

Harry bit his quivering lower lip, brow creased. “Louis, I’m so sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry.”

Louis put his fingers over Harry’s lips, shushing him softly. “Please don’t keep things from me like this ever again, Harry.”

Harry shook his head frantically from side to side, eyes wide and earnest.

Louis caressed Harry’s face as he took his fingers off his lips. Then he wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and tucked himself in against his chest. “I love you,” he whispered.

Harry made a broken sound and brought his arms up to hold Louis to him. “I love you. I love you, Louis. Please. Please—”

Curled around Louis, he kept repeating ‘please’ into the side of Louis’ head.

Louis drew back enough to look up at him. “Please what, love?” he asked, bemused.

Harry’s face crumpled. “Please don’t leave me,” he whimpered. “Please, please don’t leave me.”

Louis gaped at him, tears welling up in his eyes. “No, no. Of course not. _Harry_.”

“I’m so sorry, Louis. I should never have—”

Louis hugged him tighter. “Harry, I don’t want to talk about it right now. Not tonight.”

Harry nodded, closing his eyes, cheek pressed to Louis’ hair.

They stayed locked in their embrace for a long while.

*

Louis kept coming back to the photo album over the next week. He’d sit and flip through the pages, looking into each of the faces of his siblings, mumbling the names Harry had given him for each one. He skipped the pages with his pictures, and put his finger over his face on the ones with his mother, studying her face with his brow furrowed and his heart racing in his chest.

*

Louis stepped out of the house, blinking in the bright sunlight. Harry was parked in front of the house, slumped over the steering wheel. Louis walked over to the car and knocked on the window for Harry to unlock the door.

Harry jumped and stared at him as Louis got into the car, fastened his seatbelt, and sat very still, with his hands folded over the tupperware container on his lap. After a few minutes, Harry started the car and drove them back to the flat.

Louis didn’t say a word until he had put the container in the fridge.

“They’re cream puffs,” he said, leaning against the refrigerator door, arms crossed over his chest. “She made them. Family recipe.”

Harry stood by the table, a hand on the back of the chair. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked, tentative.

A grunt and a one-sided shrug was his answer.

“How was she?” Harry asked in a quiet voice.

Louis chewed on his bottom lip, looking at Harry’s feet instead of at his face. “She was nice. Really nice.”

Harry scratched his ankle with his foot. “That’s good, right?”

Louis lifted his eyes to Harry. “Is it wrong that I half hoped she wouldn’t be?”

“Whatever you’re feeling... it’s not wrong, Louis.”

Louis took a deep breath and let it out in a long, stuttering exhalation. “It almost makes it worse, knowing what I missed out on. I can’t help but imagine what it would have been like with her and compare it to how it was with Simon, and before him.”

“You’ve never really talked about it much, baby.”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t like to think about it. It was—When they put you in a foster home... you never knew what rules they had or how they’d punish you if you broke them. Some of the families were nice, and that was worse, because you never knew how long they were going to keep you but you knew it wasn’t going to be forever. Never forever.”

“Until Simon.”

Louis gave a bark of humourless laughter. “Yeah. It was six years and it felt like forever. But it never felt like home.”

Harry bit his lip, clutching the back of the chair. “Did he… did he hit you, Lou?”

Louis shook his head, but he didn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes. “He didn’t beat us or anything.”

“But—?”

“But he used to lock us in our room when he left the house because he didn’t trust us not to steal anything. And we weren’t allowed to take any food from the fridge or the cupboard without permission.” Louis hung his head, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “It sounds stupid, saying it out loud. I’m probably making it out worse than it was.”

Harry made an aborted movement as though to reach out to Louis, but Louis had his arms wrapped around himself, completely closed off. “I don’t think you are.”

Louis clutched the fabric of his jumper so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“He’d never touch you. Or talk to you. Except when he wanted to show us off—He’s big on pretending, Simon. He wants everyone to think he’s some kind of hero, taking in the kids no one else wants.”

The words came out slowly, as though they were being dragged out of him with painful effort. He shuddered.

“He would... he’d grip the back of your neck like you were a dog on a leash and he was your owner. And afterwards he’d call you into his office and sit you down, and tell you everything that was wrong with you… all the reasons no one had ever wanted to keep you and every single fucking reason why no one ever would. Like he’d been hoarding it up and then just let you have it all in one go.”

Harry closed his hands into fists, breathing hard, watching as Louis slid down the refrigerator door, sinking down into a crouch on the floor, hunched over, digging the heels of his palms to his eyes. “I’d go to bed hearing his voice and his _fucking list..._ ” Louis muttered.

Harry banged his fist on the table, squeezing his eyes shut, his entire body quivering with tension.

Louis jumped, losing his balance. He shrank back against the fridge, sitting with his knees to his chest. “Don’t _do_ that. Don’t fucking _do_ that, you arsehole!”

Harry’s hands shot up, palms outward. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Louis. I just—I want to fucking _kill_ him. Simon. And every single person who’s ever laid a finger on you.”

Louis’ mouth twitched. “I think you should take up boxing again... for that pent-up anger.”

Harry’s jaw clenched, but his voice shook when he spoke. “I hate that anyone ever hurt you like that.”

Louis stretched out his arms to him and Harry went to him with a sigh of relief. He sat on the floor in front of Louis, who shuffled forward so that they fit between each other’s legs, facing each other.

“I’m sorry, Harry. I shouldn’t have dumped this on you,” Louis said, running his hands through Harry’s hair.

Harry shook his head. “Louis, _don’t_. I’m so, so thankful that you’re willing to share stuff with me. I know it can’t be easy.”

Louis sighed. “It was years ago, it shouldn’t matter. And you definitely shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

Harry laced their fingers together and pressed his lips to Louis’ knuckles. “Baby, healing is a pro—”

“A process. I know,” Louis interrupted. “Now you sound like Stan.”

“You’ve kept on talking to him?”

“Yeah. He’s been trying to, um, convince me to see a friend of his who specializes in, erm, like, childhood—”

“—abuse?”

Louis ducked his head, avoiding Harry’s eyes. “Mhm.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea, Lou.”

Louis made a noncommittal sound.

Harry brought Louis’ hand to his lips again. “In any case, he’s right about healing being a journey. And I’m going to be with you every step of the way, I promise.”

Louis glanced up at him. “You sound ridiculous,” he said in a tiny voice.

“It’s true, though,” Harry insisted, offering him a small, gentle smile.

Louis was silent; the clock ticking in the background.

“What if it never goes away? What if I can’t be fixed?” Louis whispered.

“You don’t need to be fixed,” Harry said immediately. “But maybe you can stop hurting so much?” He scooted closer and cupped Louis’ cheek with one hand, tilting his face up. “I’ll still be here, though. No matter what. I love you so much, Lou. And I... I hope you’ll keep me forever.”

Louis’ smile was tremulous. “Shut up and kiss me before I start crying.”

 *

Harry came into the kitchen, still panting, in running shorts and tee shirt, damp with sweat. He started when he saw Louis sitting at the table with books and notes spread around him, and a cup of tea, still steaming.

“Hey, baby. You’re up early.”

Louis took a sip of his tea. “Gotta study. I made you that smoothie you’ve been drinking since you started running—it’s in the fridge.”

Harry grinned in delighted surprise. “Thanks, Lou.” He reached into the fridge and took out the long glass, full to the brim with a straw already in it. “Mmm. Banana.” Harry sucked through the straw, winking at Louis as he did so.

Louis rolled his eyes, biting back a smile.

“So how are you doing? Need any help?” Harry asked, wandering over to Louis.

“Not from you I don’t.”

Harry pouted. “Why not?”

Louis grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt, pulling him down to give him a kiss. “Because you’re very distracting.”

Harry leaned on the table with one hand, the other holding the glass with the smoothie. “Sorry,” he said, mouth curling into a lopsided grin.

“You don’t look very sorry at all,” Louis said, laughing.

Harry giggled, and bent down to kiss Louis again and nuzzle his neck. “Join me in the shower?” he asked, letting his lips brush against Louis’ ear. “Fucked me so good last night, babe. Wanna go again?”

“There it is.” Louis poked him in the stomach, shaking his head. “Get your distracting arse out of here, Harold. I have to study. And you have to get to work.”

Harry honked with laughter. “Sorry! Sorry!”

Louis stuck his tongue out at him, and Harry chugged down the rest of his smoothie through giggles.

He paused at the door. “Oh, hey, are we having your mum and sisters over for lunch on Sunday in the end?”

“Um, yeah, she said yes.” Louis tapped the pen against his notebook. “If you’re still OK with it.”

“Of course. I was thinking maybe we could ask Mrs. Harper downstairs for a few more chairs.”

Louis smiled at him. “That’s a good idea, love.”

Harry gave a satisfied nod. “And we need to go shopping—I'm planning on making a roast, and lemon meringue tartlets for dessert?”

Louis stared at Harry. “Harry, you really don’t have to go to so much trouble.”

Harry wiped some of the sweat from his neck with the hem of his shirt. “Gotta impress the in-laws,” he joked.

“You doofus. It’s already hard to believe you’d choose to be with me—if you get any more perfect they’re going to think I hired you as a pretend boyfriend.”

Harry’s face fell. “Louis.”

Louis looked down at his book, tapping the pen faster. “Could you make brownies instead? I think the girls will like them better,” he said after a moment.

“You’re right. And I’ll burn them a bit at the edges... so they know I’m not perfect.”

Louis’ head shot up at that. He stared at Harry for a moment before he burst out laughing, throwing his head back. “I take back it all back. You’re the absolute worst,” he said.

A wide grin spread across Harry’s face. “I love you too,” he sing-songed, and blew Louis a kiss before leaving for his shower.

*

“Won’t you have a little more of the chicken soup? You barely had half the bowl.” Harry stirred some of the soup with the spoon. “It’s still warm.”

When Louis leaned forward to rearrange the blanket, Harry set down the bowl and hurried to help him, tucking it in under his feet.

Louis sniffled into a handkerchief. “Harry, love, stop fussing. You’re worse than Zayn.”

They both froze. Then Louis was overcome by a fit of coughing, and Harry sat down again at the edge of the couch seat to rub his back. Eyes still watering, Louis signed for the glass of juice. Harry handed it over with a sigh, watching Louis drink with a worried frown. “There’s about a cup left in the carton, drink it—I’ll stop by the store before work and get more.”

Louis patted his forearm. “Relax, Hazza. It’s just the flu.”

Harry wrung his hands after setting the glass back on the coffee table. “Only a few months after a splenectomy.”

“It’s been, like, six months.”

Harry slapped a hand on his thigh, shaking his head. “I’m so stupid. I should have insisted you get vaccinated.”

Louis grabbed Harry’s hand, holding it to his chest. “You already dragged me to the doctor and she said I just needed ‘rest and fluids’. I’m _fine_ , Harold.”

“She also said we had to watch that cough. And you still had a fever last night.” He looked at Louis, brow creased, mouth twisted in displeasure. “I hate having to leave you alone when you’re sick.”

“Don’t worry, Harry. I’ll watch a bit of telly and then go to bed. And I’m stocked up on chicken soup, so I’ll be fine.”

Harry gave a weak chuckle, then bit the inside of his cheek nervously. “Um, I was thinking... maybe we could call your mum? She could stay over for a few days?”

Louis blinked at him. “She’s probably busy. She’s got the babies, and I don’t think—”

“I think she’d make time for you, Lou.” Harry hesitated before continuing, his expression grave. “I was talking to my mum yesterday, and she said something about, erm, Jay, that I hadn’t really—Like, from a mum’s perspective, you know?”

Louis remained silent.

Harry swallowed. “The thing is, your mum, she lost you when you were practically a baby, and she never got to take care of you after that. And I think she’d probably welcome the opportunity to, like, mother you a bit? If you want to give her a chance?”

Louis went quiet and thoughtful, absently playing with Harry’s fingers. “Will you call her?” he asked finally.

Harry was quick to agree.

“But don’t make it worse than it is. Don’t exaggerate, or, like, guilt her into coming,” Louis said emphatically.

Harry smiled sadly. “I don’t think I’ll have to, Lou.”

 *

“A little more tea? I know you like just milk, but a little lemon and honey will do wonders.” Jay waited for Louis to sit up before handing him the tea cup. “Careful, don’t burn your tongue.”

Louis sat with his feet up on the seat, leaning back on some throw pillows at one end of the couch; Jay was perched on the ottoman at his side.

He gave her a small, shy smile over the top of the tea cup. “Thanks.” After a moment of hesitation and a sip of the tea, he spoke again. “Between you and Harry you’ve got all fronts covered. He’s been force-feeding me chicken soup. And he’d set up a juice drip if it were possible.”

He grinned when Jay laughed; she had the same crinkles around her eyes as he did. She reached out to smooth the hair from his forehead in a slow, cautious gesture, as though she expected him to reject her touch. Her fingers were trembling as she brushed his hair back, then hovered briefly over his cheek. “You found yourself a good boy,” she said.

“Yeah. I don’t know how he puts up with me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, don’t say that,” Jay protested. “Harry adores you. I could tell from the very first time we met.”

Louis gulped down some tea, a corner of his mouth curved up.

Jay’s touch on his elbow was light. “You deserve the best the world has to offer, Louis.”

Louis was careful not to shake her hand off. “Thanks, Jay.”

Jay gave him a small, sad smile. “I remember when you used to call me mummy like it was yesterday.” Her hand dropped to her lap. “The first time you said it... I worked at a store at the time—I didn’t become a nurse until later—and I told every single customer that came through the door that day that my baby boy had called me mummy.”

Louis stared at her with a carefully blank expression on his face, handing her the cup for her to set on the coffee table. “I remember you used to read to me in bed.”

Jay smiled through the tears welling in her eyes. “You remember that?” Her voice quavered.

Louis nodded, expression softening the more he studied her face.

“You always had a thousand questions. ‘Mummy, why? Mummy, what happened then?’” Jay covered her mouth with a shaking hand, a tear spilling over and down her cheek. “You wanted everyone to have a happy ending. Even the evil witch and the big bad wolf.”

“What an idiot.”

Jay chuckled through the tears. “Such a good boy. I’ve only known you for a few weeks but I can tell that hasn’t changed... even after all you’ve suffered.” She broke down, sobbing, holding her hands out to him in a pleading gesture. “I’m so sorry. So sorry, my baby boy. I never forgot you, I promise. Not for a single moment. I tried to find you—I should have done more! _I’m so sorry_. But I never stopped loving you, never, never, never.”

Louis took her hands in his and tugged until she moved to embrace him.

They held each other, crying, for a long time.  
 


	7. Chapter 7

“Mate, I fucking glad you’re done with exams. You’re a cranky bastard when you’re stressed,” Niall said lifting his pint in a salute toward Louis, who was sitting opposite him.

“Cheers, Nialler,” Louis replied, deadpan. Then he grabbed a handful of nuts from the bowl and started tossing them at Niall, who tried to catch them in his mouth.

“But I’m sure no one’s happier than Harry,” Niall said as Harry approached the table, back from the toilet.

“Hm? What did I miss? Why am I happy?” Harry asked, sitting down on the bar stool next to Louis, letting his hand linger on the back of Louis’ neck and shoulder as he took a seat.

Niall gave him a pointed look.

“Because you’re finally gonna get some after more than a week,” Liam piped up before Niall could explain.

“How do you know—” Harry began with a frown.

“Mate, it’s been painfully obvious.”

Niall laughed hard, snorting into his beer.

Louis grabbed more ammunition, eyes narrowed, mouth twitching, but Liam put his hands up. “Truce!” he said quickly, waving at someone behind Louis and Harry. “Behave; Sophia’s here.”

Louis snorted, while Harry selected a couple of cashews from Louis’ hand and popped them in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “It’s true, though.” He nudged Louis’ leg under the table with his own. “I’m all hot for you, Lou.”

Louis put a hand on Harry’s thigh to balance himself as he leaned in close to whisper in his ear. “That’s good, ’cause I’m gonna ride you so hard when we get home, Hazza. Let you have what you’ve been missing, yeah?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively as he drew back, smiling.

Harry’s mouth was twisted in a lopsided grin as he brought Louis’ ear to his mouth with a hand on the back of his neck.

Louis shivered as Harry let his lips brush his ear, hot and damp. “You’re gonna be so tight babe... I’m gonna open you up nice and slow, and then have you sit on my cock. You look so fucking pretty bouncing on my cock, Louis... riding me until you can’t hold yourself up and I have to put you on your back and fuck you into the mattress.”

“Harry! Bro!” Liam called out before Louis could muster more of a reaction than a hitch of his breathing and an involuntary jerk of his leg, knocking his knee against Harry’s.

“Eh, what?” Harry asked, his eyes sliding to Liam’s as his fingers twitched on the nape of Louis’ neck.

Liam looked from Louis to Harry suspiciously. “Never mind,” he said after a moment, pulling a face.

Niall cracked up, and Sophia looked from one to the other, uncomprehending.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling.

Liam shook his head. “You don’t want to know. Believe me.”

*

The moment Harry’s phone stopped ringing, Louis’ started.

“Who the fuck is calling at this hour?” Harry groused, shaking his hair out of his face as he raised his head from the pillow, creases imprinted on his cheek and flushed from sleep.

Louis rolled to the edge of the bed and groped blindly for his phone. It was Liam.

“What?” Louis groaned, kicking off the tangled sheets and sprawling naked on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes.

“It’s eleven on a weekday, Louis.” Liam’s frown was audible.

“Harry doesn’t work today.” Louis peeked under his arm to smile at Harry, who was watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, raised on one elbow and holding his head up with a fist at his jaw. “And we didn’t go to bed—to sleep—until late.”

Liam grunted. “I thought as much. But something’s come up.”

Harry sat up, stretched out his back, then crawled toward Louis in a languid but deliberate movement. Louis tried to bat Harry away when he settled half on top of him, lowering his head to give one of Louis’ nipples a lazy tug.

“Louis? Are you even listening to me?” Liam’s raised voice brought Louis’ attention back to the conversation.

“Yeah—” Louis squirmed when Harry licked a stripe on his chest and then blew over the wet skin, making him break out in goosebumps. Louis was further distracted by the sight of Harry’s full, pink lips pursed in an attractive pout.

“We need to talk. Can I come over?”

Louis tried to smother his giggling after Harry shuffled down, his hair tickling Louis in the process, to blow a raspberry into his belly.

“Harry, stop that,” Louis said, holding back his laughter. “You mean now?”

Liam sighed. “Yeah. I’m sorry to bother you two, but— Louis, they’ve set the date for your court hearing.”

Louis went from laughing to completely serious in an instant. “Oh.”

Harry looked up with a small frown. “What’s wrong?”

Louis just blinked at him and reached out to brush his hair out of his face. “Have you had breakfast?” he asked Liam.

“I’m good, thanks. I’ll be over in half an hour.”

Louis hung up, still running his fingers through Harry’s hair absently.

“What happened?” Harry asked again.

*

Liam took a deep breath and let it out in an audible sigh, disturbing the surface of the coffee in the cup in front of him. He spread his palms on the tabletop. “Cases dealing with charges of intent to supply are... tricky. ‘Cause a lot of the evidence is circumstantial—we’re talking from how the drugs were wrapped, to where you were when you were caught—and it’s difficult to know how they’re going to turn out. One of the things they rely on the most for convictions are statements at the time of arrest, because most people end up incriminating themselves, one way or another. Now, they didn’t take your statement because you were unconscious, obviously… but the thing is, they should have taken your statement afterward... and they didn’t. That’s a mistake in police procedure, so the prosecution’s eager to convict to save their arses.”

“So they’re gonna go harder on him because they messed up?” Harry asked indignantly.

Liam nodded, making a face. “Pretty much, yeah.” He stirred his coffee with the spoon but didn’t drink. “They don’t have that much on you—the amount you were caught with was minimal, thankfully. The problem is the circumstances are... suspicious. A stabbing in a derelict alley is hard to explain outside of criminal activity.”

Louis’ hand went to his side where the scar from the operation was hidden under his clothes.

“We can argue that you’ve been turning your life around and incarceration wouldn’t serve any purpose... But it’s gonna depend on what kind of judge is assigned your case. I mean, I’m sure we can manage a reduced sentence, but—”

“How much would a reduced sentence be?” Harry asked after a moment, glancing at Louis, who was sitting unmoving and staring unseeing at some point on the kitchen wall.

“Again, it depends,” Liam replied. “We could be talking about... maybe two, three years? I don’t know.”

Louis made a small choking sound, and the movement of his throat was visible as he swallowed convulsively.

Harry slid his hand on the tabletop closer to Louis, but Louis didn’t move. “Is there any way out of it?” Harry asked in a tight voice.

“It would be brilliant if your friend, the actual drug dealer, came forth and claimed responsibility.” Liam’s laughter was forced.

“That’s not going to happen,” Louis spoke up.

Liam leaned forward. “No, but listen. If he revealed his supplier and some of his contacts... he could cut a deal with the police. He has a hell of a lot more to bargain with than you do.”

Louis frowned at him. “Even if he were willing to do that, I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how to find him.”

“Friends? Acquaintances? Places he used to frequent? You’ve got two weeks. It’s worth a try?”

Harry answered when it became apparent Louis wasn’t going to. “We’ll look into it. Thanks, Liam.”

Liam looked at Louis with a troubled expression on his face. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help, Louis.”

Louis roused himself again with a visible effort. He reached for Harry’s hand which was still on the table, and patted Liam’s arm with the other. “It’s not your fault, Liam. Thanks for everything.”

 *

“Don’t park in front of the house.” Louis had bitten his nails to the quick, and he kept bouncing his leg nervously while Harry drove around the corner and down another street before coming to a stop.

“OK?” Harry asked before turning off the engine.

Louis made a sound of assent, and startled when Harry reached out to grip his wrist, gently leading his hand away from his mouth.

“I could go in by myself. It’ll take a bit more explaining, but...” Harry trailed off uncertainly, giving Louis’ hand a squeeze.

Louis chewed on his bottom lip, staring out the windshield, then shook his head. “No, no one should be alone with him. And I’ve put it off long enough.”  
   
   
They climbed up the stairs to the porch and approached the front door. Harry rang the doorbell, still holding Louis’ hand with the other. Louis’ body was practically quivering with tension, and his grip on Harry’s hand turned painful when the door opened and a middle aged man opened the door.

The man’s face seemed unnaturally stiff, his eyebrows rising minimally as his eyes fell on Louis. He looked him over, face expressionless, his gaze lingering on their linked hands.

“Louis, my boy. And a friend. What an unexpected pleasure.”

Neither Harry nor Louis said anything.

Simon’s mouth twitched. “I’m Simon Cowell. Louis’ former legal guardian.”

He held his hand out to Harry, forcing him to choose between shaking his hand and letting go of Louis. Harry didn’t let go. “I know who you are,” he said shortly.

There was another twitch of his face. “Excellent. Come in, then. We can talk in my office.”

Simon led them down a series of corridors, walking ahead of them without looking back. The house was impressive on the outside, but the inside felt oppressive, lavishly decorated in a manner incongruous with a house-full of children. They caught sight of a trio of boys watching television as they went through a living room. The kids were no older than fourteen, and looked up to stare at them as they passed.

Simon held the door open for them into his office. Louis let go of Harry’s hand and walked straight to one of the chairs, his action reflexive. Despite the summer heat Louis had put on a thin hoodie and he pulled the sleeves down to cover his hands, only the tip of his fingers peeking out as he held onto the cuffs. Harry took the seat next to him, and Simon sat behind the desk after closing the heavy wooden door behind them.

“It’s been some time, hasn’t it?” Simon said casually, reclining back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Louis.

Louis shrank in his chair and said nothing.

Simon’s eyes turned to Harry. “They left the minute Zayn turned eighteen. They didn’t even wait till morning; sneaked out in the middle of the night without a word.”

“Have you seen Zayn?” Louis spoke up abruptly.

“Not for months, no.” Simon tilted his head to the side. “Don’t tell me you two had a falling out? What happened?”

Louis didn’t answer the question. “You haven’t been in touch?”

“He mailed the last payment in January, and that’s all.” Simon addressed Harry: “I made him a small loan some time ago. I’m always happy to help my boys.”

Harry’s attention was on Louis, who made as though to stand up. “Right. That was all.”

Simon stopped him with a glance. “So soon? I thought we might catch up. You haven’t even introduced me to your... friend.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Louis said with a hint of defiance.

Harry introduced himself reluctantly.

“Nice to meet you, Harry.” Simon stroked his chin, looking between them for a moment before turning his attention to Harry. “What an unlikely pair you two make. I wonder what someone like Louis can offer you.”

Harry frowned, his hands curling into fists. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“If there’s one thing I pride myself in, Harry, it’s my ability to see the _potential_ in people. I _know_ people. I know their _worth_ , so to speak. And when I look at you, I can tell you’re in a different class in every way. You’re not on the same level, if you get my meaning.”

Harry’ jaw clenched. “I don’t.”

Simon’s posture was totally relaxed as he looked at Harry. “How to put it... He’s background noise: at worst annoying, at best irrelevant, and pretty much useless except perhaps as a distraction.” Something like laughter came out of him. “Well, I’ve gone and answered my own question, haven’t I? He’s a temporary distraction, of course, until you find something better.”

Harry was rendered momentarily speechless with fury, unable to do anything as Simon turned to Louis. “But I suppose you can’t ask for more than that, Louis.”

Harry looked at Louis, who was sitting very still, his head bowed.

“We’re leaving,” Louis said hoarsely, almost inaudibly.

After a second he pushed himself to his feet. He kept his eyes on the floor, but gave Harry's shoulder a tap as he passed. Harry stood up, still in shock. When he reached the door, however, Harry stopped and spun around.

“You’re mistaken,” Harry told Simon. “You’re so wrong.”

“Am I? You must see something in him that I don’t,” Simon replied lightly.

“But you do. You _do_ see it. You could see it from the start: the... the _light_ Louis has inside of him. And you couldn’t stand it because you’re... empty. There’s nothing inside you. And all you can do to try to fill that emptiness is to feed off others. You’ll never be anything but a leech.”

Anger rippled across Simon’s face. “I’ve sucked him dry, if that’s the case. Look at him! I hope you enjoy your broken toy, Harry Styles.”

Harry actually growled, but it was Louis who answered before he could.

“No you didn’t. You tried your fucking best, but you didn’t,” Louis said quietly, raising his head to look at Simon. “And I'm not broken.”

Then he walked out of the office.

“You’re pathetic. If you ever even come near him I’ll fucking kill you,” Harry spat at Simon before following Louis out.

 

Harry chased after Louis down the street to the car. He had to walk fast in order to keep up with Louis who was almost running, hunched over and arms wrapped around himself, head down.

Once inside the car, Louis fumbled to fasten his seatbelt, hands shaking, sweat glistening in his temples. Harry sat with his body turned toward Louis, watching him with concern.

“They keep giving him kids,” Louis said suddenly.

Harry sighed. “I guess no one is reporting him—”

Louis gave up on the seatbelt. “He gives a bunch of 'donations' and he knows a lot of people.” He let out a trembling breath. “And once you get out, the last thing you want to do is look back.”

Harry held back from touching Louis, who was restless in the passenger seat: sweating and white-lipped.

“I think he might have been lying about being in touch with Zayn,” Harry said.

Louis sighed. “I think so too.” He hunched over, elbows on his thighs, and knuckled his eyes. “Well, that was about as awful as I expected it to be.”

“I’m so proud of you, Lou.” Harry’s voice was very gentle and full of sincere feeling.

Louis peeked at him between his fingers.

“You stood up to him, baby. That must have been so hard,” Harry went on.

A noise that could have been a sob or a laugh burst from Louis, who sat up a little straighter and wrapped his arms around himself again. “I wanted to tell him to fuck off but I couldn’t breathe. I still feel like I’m going to throw up.”

Harry turned on the car to lower the windows and scavenged in the glove compartment for a paper bag, which he handed to Louis wordlessly.

It made Louis smile, though he was tearing up. “Thanks. Thanks for... everything. What you said—”

“It’s the truth, Louis.”

Louis wiped his eyes impatiently with the sleeves of the hoodie. “Fuck, I need a shower.”

 

They found themselves standing, still clothed, in front of the shower while the water ran, heating up.

Harry lifted his hand hesitantly. “Can I touch you?”

Louis looked at him in surprise. “Of course, love. Always.”

Harry reached out to unzip his hoodie, slipping his hands underneath and fitting his hands to Louis' waist, his touch light. “I’m not sure sometimes, when you’re upset, if you need space or if it’s all right to touch you. If that will make you feel better or not,” he confessed.

Louis ran his hands up and down Harry’s arms. “It helps because it’s you... You make everything better.”

Harry breathed out with obvious emotion, smiling back at Louis. He leaned in slowly. “Can I kiss you?”

Louis closed the distance between them. The kiss was soft and slow, and they didn’t break apart while Harry pushed the hoodie off Louis’ shoulders and down his arms.

“Let’s get in the shower before the water goes cold,” Louis said, drawing back.

They undressed quickly, then huddled together under the warm spray of water, exchanging gentle, lingering touches.

After a bit, Harry took up the sponge and started washing Louis, slow and thorough. He followed the curve of his neck and shoulders, sliding down each of his arms in turn and pressing kisses to the tips of his fingers; then ticklish under his arms and down his side; crouching down to wash his thighs, his calves, every one of his toes.

“You’re so beautiful,” Harry whispered, pressing his lips to the thin skin at the back of his knees. He moved with the sponge up Louis’ thighs and between his legs. “The first time I saw you, you were unconscious and straight out of surgery—”

“Sex appeal at its finest,” Louis interjected, a little breathless.

Harry kissed up his spine, straightening, his cock half hard. “Bertha told me off because I kept looking at you.”

“Creep,” Louis quipped, then sighed with pleasure as Harry started shampooing his hair, letting his thumbs dig into the tense muscles in the back of his neck.

Harry let out a cackle. “A bit.” He rinsed Louis’ hair out, careful not to get shampoo in his eyes. “D’you remember how flustered I was when we met? I think I might have stopped breathing for a second when you opened your eyes.”

Louis turned around, one hand on Harry’s chest and the other reaching down between his legs. His touch was light, exploring the familiar texture of Harry’s cock with the tips of his fingers. “You do talk some shit, Hazza,” he said, voice soft.

Harry cupped his face, cock twitching in Louis’ hand. “I’m serious. You were the most beautiful person I’d seen in my life.”

Louis brought him in for a kiss, licking into his mouth, gripping the back of his neck, tangling his fingers in Harry’s wet hair, his grip on his cock tightening.

“ _You’re_ beautiful. I love you so much, Harry.”

Harry kissed down his neck, then got on his knees, nuzzling the crease of his thigh. He put a hand on Louis’ hip, exerting a hint of pressure. “OK?” he asked.

Louis looked down at him for a moment, lips parted, then nodded, turning to brace himself against the wall.

Harry ran his hands up the back of Louis’ thighs, encouraging him to spread his legs a little wider. “Love you,” he said, smoothing his hands from the dip of his lower back to his arse.

He spread Louis open, nosing along the crease of his arse before licking a stripe up his perineum and over his hole.

Louis whimpered, and Harry teased the rim of his hole with the tip of his tongue, holding him open with his thumbs digging into the firm flesh. He drew back, rubbing the pads of two fingers over Louis’ twitching, wet hole. “Love eating you out, babe. So fucking hot.”

Louis couldn’t get a word out before Harry moved in again. He lapped at his hole, making Louis arch his back, gasping, with his forehead pressed to the wet tile, eyes squeezed shut.

Harry used his tongue and his fingers until Louis’ legs were shaking and he was moaning—high-pitched and weak in the back of his throat—at every touch.

“What do you want, Lou?” Harry asked, voice deeper than usual, tracing the rim of his hole with one finger.

It took Louis a long moment to answer, with Harry giving his hole lazy kitten licks and one hand playing with his balls.

“Want you,” Louis choked out. “Your cock. Want you to fuck me, Harry. Please.”

Harry groaned, and reached for his own cock, squeezing the base, breathing hard.

“Yeah. Let me just—lube.”

He jumped out the shower, wincing at the change of temperature, and bent down to rummage in the cabinet for a bottle of lube, dripping water all over the floor. When he stepped back inside the shower enclosure, Louis already had one finger inside himself, though he hadn’t moved from his place against the wall otherwise.

“Fuck.” Harry moved to stand behind him, pouring lube messily over his fingers. “Let me do it, babe, please.”

Louis removed his hand, and Harry pushed in first one—and then at the lack of resistance, a second—slick finger. “Taking it so good. Nice and easy, yeah?”

“I’m ready, Harry. Just fuck me. _Please_ , need you to fuck me,” Louis panted, squirming. “Come _on, Harry_.” 

Harry pulled his fingers out, slicked up his cock and guided it to Louis’ hole, pressing inside slowly.

“You feel so good, Lou,” Harry said, voice strained, once he was fully inside.

“ _You_. _You_ feel so good, love. Make me feel so good. Always—” Louis said, voice breaking.

Harry wrapped an arm across his chest, his front pressed tight against Louis’ back, and reached for Louis' cock with his other hand. “Louis, I love you. I love you so fucking much—” he groaned, barely pulling out before pushing back in.

Louis hung his head, breath coming in wet gasps, taking one hand off the wall to grip Harry’s hand on his chest, lacing their fingers together, while Harry fucked him, slow and deep.

“C’mon, baby, let go. I’ve got you.”

Louis came with a whimper, shuddering, while Harry continued murmuring encouragement and praise, until, after a few more tight thrusts of his hips, he found his own release. Harry mouthed at Louis’ shoulder while he caught his breath, arms wrapped around Louis, whose breathing was quick and stuttering.

When Harry went to pull out a moment later, Louis made a pained noise and clutched at Harry, grasping at his arm and pulling it back across his chest.

“Baby, did I hurt you?” Harry asked urgently. "Louis?"

Louis shook his head, but turned his face away when Harry tried to look at him. Harry’s brow furrowed in sudden realization. “Louis, you’re _crying_.” He held him tighter in his arms. “ _Shit. Lou_ ,” he said helplessly.

Louis whimpered, squeezing his hand. “I don’t want this to end.”

Harry kissed his shoulder, the side of his neck, the angle of his jaw. “I’ll make love to you all night, Lou. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“I want more than one night,” Louis sobbed. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Harry pulled out carefully and turned Louis around with his hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever happens—whatever happens—we’ll face it together. I’m not leaving you, Louis.”

Louis’ lashes were wet and spiked, fanning over his cheeks, as he kept his eyed fixed on Harry’s chest while he slowly smoothed his hands over the breadth of his shoulders, and from his shoulders to his neck. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet Harry’s. He didn’t look away while he pushed Harry’s hair back from his face and tucked the wet strands behind his ears.

Harry waited with bated breath, keeping very still while Louis traced the curve of his jaw and the plumpness of his bottom lip.

Louis tilted his face up to brush their lips together. “Take me to bed, please, Harry,” he whispered.

*

Harry hurried to turn off the alarm but didn’t immediately get out of bed. Instead he spent ten minutes staring at Louis, who was sleeping on his side facing away from him, so that all Harry could see was his back, his shoulders curled inward, the sheet taut because he had wrapped it around himself at some point during the night.

Harry got out of bed careful not to disturb him, pulled off the shirt he’d been sleeping in, leaving it on the bed, and tiptoed out of the room.  
   
   
When he came back from his morning run, he peered into the bedroom before heading to the shower: Louis had turned on his other side, so that Harry could make out how his brow was knitted even in sleep.

Harry closed the door with a sigh, rubbing the tension from his own brow as he walked down the hall to the bathroom.  
   
   
Harry nudged the door open with his shoulder, holding a steaming mug of tea in one hand and balancing a scone and a stack of toast on a plate in the other. Louis hadn’t moved, but he stirred, lashes fluttering, at the tinkle of the spoon against the rim of the mug.

“Lou,” Harry called softly from the doorway. “Louis, I made breakfast.”

Louis cracked one eye open and squinted at him.

“Morning, baby.”

Louis made a small, indeterminate noise in response, and the line of his body rippled under the sheet as he stretched.

“Want to get out of bed and join me for breakfast? In the kitchen, or the living room?” Harry glanced at the digital clock by the bed. “Just in time for that cartoon you like, Lou.”

Louis blinked at him, expressionless, then rolled onto his other side, turning his back on Harry.

Harry bit his lip hard, frozen in place.

After a moment he set the plate and mug on the bedside table. “I went to the bakery down the street—bought their first batch of scones. They’re still warm.”

Louis didn’t answer.

“I’ll leave it here. And your tea,” Harry said finally.

No response.

Harry waited until he was outside the bedroom to let out a trembling sigh, resting his forehead against the doorframe, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the stinging. 

 

Harry took a deep breath before going into the bedroom. He marched over to the window and pulled up the shutters a little, letting in a bit of dappled sunlight. Squaring his shoulders, he turned around, but his face crumpled when he got a good look at Louis, who had migrated to Harry’s side of the bed and was hugging Harry’s pillow to his chest. He’d also exchanged his own shirt for the one Harry had left lying on the bed that morning.

Louis didn’t move, and only blinked at him, eyes dull but without a trace of sleepiness.

Harry went over and sat at the edge of the bed with a sigh. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, Lou. How about some lunch, hm?”

Louis gave a one shouldered shrug. “‘m not hungry, Harry.”

Harry glanced at the uneaten toast and scone on the bedside table, and his shoulders slumped.

“You drank half a mug of tea for breakfast and you barely touched your dinner last night—you’ve got to eat, baby.”

Louis said nothing, but wriggled closer so that his head was almost on Harry’s lap.

Harry stroked his hair. “He might still show up,” he said quietly.

“He’s had time to get in touch. If Simon even told Zayn that I was looking for him... it’s clear he doesn’t care.”

“OK,” Harry said after a moment. “So he doesn’t show up—it’s not the end of the world. You’ve got a strong enough defence without him.”

“I think you’re in denial,” Louis replied, letting go of his grip on the pillow to curl around Harry’s leg instead.

“I’m not. But I’m... I’m really worried. Because you’ve spent the last five days lying in bed and eating next to nothing, Louis,” Harry said with a quaver in his voice.

Louis gave a long sigh. “Well, what do you want me to do, Harry?” he asked tiredly.

Harry brushed his knuckles down Louis’ unshaven cheek and gently tilted his chin up. “Talk to me?” he said, between a plea and a suggestion, when their eyes met.

Louis averted his eyes and tucked his chin back against his chest. “Might as well get used to us not talking much,” he mumbled.

“Don’t say that. We’ll write to each other, and talk on the phone when we can, and make the most of whatever time we get together,” Harry said, keeping his voice light with an obvious effort.

Louis sat up, legs tangled in the sheets. He crossed his arms over his chest, Harry’s shirt slipping down one of his shoulders. “You just don’t want to face it, do you? What it will really be like.”

“You haven’t been sentenced yet, Louis! Stop acting like it’s decided—”

“No, _you_ stop _lying_ to yourself. _You_ stop being so fucking _stupid_! This is happening, Harry! And you might fancy yourself a knight in shining armour, but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, looking away from Louis, frowning deeply, breathing hard. “Fine,” he said roughly. “If you go to prison it’s going to be hell, Louis. I’m going to miss you every minute of every hour of every day, and I’m going to lie awake at night worrying about you, and I’ll only breathe freely again the day you get out. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Louis gaped at him. “No! _Fuck_.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, his breath hitching.

Harry reached out to touch his elbow, but Louis flinched away.

“I don’t want you to make yourself a martyr for me, damn it.”

“I’m not—How can you say that to me?”

Louis shook his head hard. “Yes, you are. You’ve been trying to, like, _save_ me since we met and now that you can’t, you’ll make yourself into some kind of martyr.”

“You don’t mean that,” Harry said, voice hollow.

“I do—”

Harry’s face twisted in pain.

“But I’m not... I’m not going to let you.”

“What?”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Louis repeated, his face ashen. “The moment I walk into prison it’s over between us.”

“Louis—”

“No. I mean it!” Louis said, voice shrill. “I’ll ban you from calling, and visiting, and tell them to return your letters if you write.”

Harry looked at him through eyes blurred with tears. “You think that will stop me from thinking about you? From loving you?”

Louis stared at him, wide-eyed, trembling. “Maybe not at first. But after a while... I told you, Harry: it’s never forever.”

Harry hung his head, eyes closed and lips pressed tight, a white-knuckled grip on his knees. They both remained frozen, the sound of their breathing—Harry’s harsh and uneven, and Louis’ tremulous and hiccuping—filling the room.

Harry looked up when he heard Louis struggling to untangle himself from the sheets to scramble off the bed.

“No. I’ll go,” Harry said firmly, voice somber, getting to his feet. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to run out every time you’re upset with me.” He pinched the skin between his eyebrows, his hand shaking. “I’m... I’m going out for a bit.”

Louis stood still at the foot of the bed and watched Harry as he walked out of the room, shoulders hunched and head down. After a minute, he heard the jangle of keys and the front door closing.

In a stupor, Louis crept out of the room. He staggered into the living room, peered into the kitchen, and checked the guest room before stepping into the bathroom. He used the toilet and splashed some water on his face, carefully avoiding the mirror. Then he went back to the bedroom and crawled into bed, grabbing Harry’s pillow and curling around it again in a tight ball before pulling the sheet over his head.

 

Louis hurried to reach his ringing mobile, emerging from under the sheet, face tear-streaked.

“Harry?” he gasped, picking up.

“No, but don’t you dare hang up on me, you wanker.”

“Niall.”

“If you’re trying to spare him, you’re not doing a very good job. He’s hurt as hell.”

Louis leaned one shoulder against the headboard, drawing his knees up. “He’s going to get hurt no matter what. At least like this he can move on quicker.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Niall said with a sigh.

“I’m not going to let him wait around for me for years while I’m in prison, Niall!” Louis said, tone frantic. “He had enough reasons to be ashamed of me before… and now—”

Niall made a sound of frustrated disgust. “Why can’t you get it into your thick head that Harry loves you and doesn’t care about any of that shit?”

“I’m just trying to protect him,” Louis whimpered.

“Well, stop. What you’re doing is insulting, mate, frankly. Harry’s capable of making his own decisions. He might be a really good person, but he’s not a fool. It’s his choice, and if you love him you should respect that, and not try to push him away out of some misguided sense of honour or something.”

Niall clucked his tongue at Louis’ silence. “Nothing to say?”

Louis tugged on what was left of the thumbnail on his left hand. “No,” he said in a small voice.

“That’s right.” Niall laughed. “Now pull yourself together. And when he gets back home you apologize, tell him you love him, and give him a blowjob or something.”

It startled a weak huff of laughter from Louis. “Did you manage to make Harry laugh?” he asked in a whisper.

Niall let out a long breath. “Yeah, Louis. I got a chuckle out of him,” he said kindly.

“Thanks, Niall.”

“Love ya, mate. Go blow your nose before Harry gets back.”

Louis smiled as he ended the call, sniffling. He was about to put his phone down when it started ringing again. He frowned in confusion as ‘unknown number’ flashed across the screen. After a moment’s hesitation, he accepted the call.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me.”

Louis went completely still.

“Louis? It’s Zayn.”

Louis started breathing again. “I know. I recognize your voice, you twat.”

Zayn let out a breath of laughter. “Fuck, Louis. I missed you, babe.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

After a beat, Zayn cleared his throat. “I... I heard you went to see Simon.”

“Who told you?”

“Simon,” Zayn admitted.

Louis’ twisted his fingers in Harry’s shirt. “I knew he was lying. And you’re still talking to him?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s not that simple, all right?” Zayn huffed in frustration. “But he told me you’d come asking for me. And I... I knew if you’d gone to see Simon it had to be serious.”

A muscle in Louis’ jaw twitched. “Didn’t it surprise you to find out I was alive?”

“No. I knew you were alive.”

Louis’ mouth twisted at the hesitation before Zayn’s answer, and he made a skeptical noise.

“It’s true. I called the hospital.”

“Right.”

“I told them not to tell you I’d called.”

“Why?” Louis demanded.

Zayn groaned. “Fuck, Louis, I was _ashamed_. I... I fucking left you lying there, bleeding out. But, babe, I was terrified— I dumped the drugs and got on the first bus leaving the city.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Up north. You remember my sister? We were separated when they took us from our parents, and she couldn’t take care of me after but she sent me money every few months?”

Louis nodded. “I remember Doniya. She kept us from starving those first couple of months after we left Simon’s.”

“Yeah,” Zayn agreed quietly. “Well, she helped me out. Got me on my feet again, after… after what happened.”

“That’s great, Zayn,” Louis said with a tired sigh.

“I didn’t get in touch because I was… I was so ashamed, babe. But do you think I just turned around and forgot about you? We’re brothers, Louis.”

Louis grunted, trying to swallow around the lump in his throat. “Don’t, Zayn. Just don’t.”

“All right.” Zayn’s voice got softer. “But how… how’ve you been?”

“I’m fine,” Louis said shortly. “I didn’t... I didn’t fucking go asking after you to catch up, Zee. There’s a reason I was looking for you.”

Zayn remained silent for a long time after Louis had finished explaining.

“You want me to take the fall for you?” he asked finally, with obvious distaste.

Louis’ grip on the tee shirt went white-knuckled. “You cunt. I want you to take the fall for yourself! I got caught up in this just because I was there with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to come with me.”

Louis’ jaw clenched. “No. You didn’t.”

He could make out the click of a lighter, and then Zayn sucking at a cigarette. “If I do what you want me to do. If I give up Shahid and the others—Shit, Louis, I can’t go to prison. It’d kill me.”

“You think I’d do any better?”

Zayn growled in frustration. “You don’t understand, it’s not—They’ve got people inside. That kind of thing… word gets around. And nobody likes a snitch.”

“The police will protect you,” Louis said quickly. “Liam says that just giving yourself up will count for a lot in your favor.”

Zayn snorted. “So say they let me walk free. Great. _They’ll_ find me. I’ll have to leave—”

“That shouldn’t be a problem for you,” Louis interjected coldly.

Louis tensed up when Zayn didn’t answer, but after a moment Zayn spoke again. “What am I supposed to tell my sister, bro?”

“You haven’t told her?”

“No, not really.”

Louis thumped his head against the headboard. “I don’t care what you tell her, Zayn. I care about not going to fucking prison.”

“I’ve... I’ve got to think about it.”

“Brilliant. I’ll just sit tight while you decide. You get a second chance to ruin my life, since the first one didn’t work out.”

“I don’t—Shit, I’ve got to think about myself, Louis.”

Louis sighed. “Of course you do.”

 

Louis perched on the edge of the couch, drumming his fingers on the armrest and bouncing his legs. His hair was still wet from the shower, dripping down to the collar of a clean tee shirt. He sprang to his feet when he heard the key in the front door, startling Harry as he came into the flat.

Louis opened his mouth to greet him, but nothing came out.

Harry’s eyes were red rimmed when he took off his sunglasses. “Hey. You’re up,” he croaked.

Louis bit his lip. “What’ve you got there?” he asked, gesturing to the plastic bags Harry was carrying in one hand.

Harry looked as though he’d forgotten about them. “Sushi.” He kept his eyes lowered as he toed off his shoes. “I thought it might tempt you to eat, since nothing else has worked.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Harry took a step inside, then another. “Well. Let’s find out if you like it?” he said with the shadow of a smile.

Louis watched Harry as he started setting what he’d brought out on the coffee table. “Why are you so good to me?” he asked helplessly.

Harry folded the plastic bag into a square after taking out the last container, then raised his eyes to Louis’. “Because I love you, and because you deserve to be treated well,” he said simply.

Louis swallowed thickly. “Harry, I’m so sorry—”

Harry pulled him down onto the couch, sitting down next to him. “It’s fine, Lou.”

“It’s not.” Louis raised a hand to Harry’s face, brushing the tips of his fingers to his cheek. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

“I know, baby.” Harry kissed his fingertips when they brushed against his lips. “I shouldn’t have—I kept pushing even though I knew you weren’t... all right. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

Louis shook his head, brow furrowed. “No. Listen. I’m the one who fucked up.” He forced himself to meet Harry’s eyes. “I’m the one who fucked up. And I think... I think that’s going to happen sometimes, and I need you to call me out on it, Harry. Because it’s not your fault if I’m not all right, and it’s not an excuse for me to hurt you.”

“Lou,” Harry breathed, the expression on his face so tender that Louis had to look away.

Louis took a deep breath before speaking, glancing up from his clasped hands on his lap. “I didn’t mean what I said... you’re the best person I’ve ever known, Harry. You really are. And I’m sorry.”

Harry leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. I accept your apology,” he replied with exaggerated formality in an attempt at deadpan humour.

A corner of Louis’ mouth lifted in a weak smile, then dropped. “It’s not an excuse, but I’m so scared, Harry. I’m fucking terrified,” he said, wringing his hands.

Harry took Louis’ hands in his own, squeezing his fingers.

Louis worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “A year ago I would have been scared, but it wouldn’t have... mattered as much? I didn’t have anything I really cared about besides Zayn. But now... now I’ve got so much.” Louis raised their linked hands to his chest, which was rising and falling too fast. “You’ve given me so much, Harry. You gave me a place to stay, and a chance to... to move forward. And you gave me... you gave me my mum back, and a family—I can never thank you enough for that.”

Harry blinked back tears. “You don’t have to thank me—”

Louis dipped his head to press his trembling lips to Harry’s knuckles. “You gave me a _home_ , Harry.  And I don’t mean this flat—I’d be happy living under a bridge if it was with you—I mean _you_.” Louis’ voice broke. “You’re my... you’re my forever home.”

Harry could no longer hold back his tears. “Louis,” he whimpered, “I’d go anywhere with you. I’d do anything for you—”

Louis pressed a final kiss to his hands before letting them go, looking straight at Harry. “But you’ve already done everything.”

Harry let out a broken sound and pulled him into a hug, curling around Louis, shaking with sobs. “Let’s flee the country. Or I’ll rob a bank so I can go to prison with you—”

Louis laughed through his tears, pulling back enough to give Harry a look. “Don’t you dare, Harold. I need someone on the outside—haven’t you seen any prison films?”

Harry choked on a giggle. “I’ll get you all the cigarettes, I promise.”

Louis nodded and guided Harry’s head to his shoulder again, rubbing his back. “Thanks, love.”


	8. Chapter 8

The sun was shining through the window, lighting up the hall of the courthouse and painting everything with a soft golden light.

Liam checked his reflection in the polished wood paneling of the wall, then glanced at Louis and Harry sitting on a bench, holding hands.

“Are we depending on your good looks to impress the judge or?” Louis teased when he caught Liam looking at him.

Liam chuckled. “Not quite. But it doesn’t hurt, you know.”

Harry kissed Louis on the cheek. “You look stunning in that suit, Lou.”

Louis raised his eyebrows, brushing back a curl of Harry’s hair which had fallen over his forehead. “Are you suggesting I seduce the judge, Harold?”

Harry managed a small grin. “It wouldn’t be hard—all you have to do is bat your eyelashes at them.”

Louis bit his lip through a smile. “Silly Hazza. That only works on you.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to reply, as the bailiff came out and called Louis’ name.

Louis stood up automatically, though Harry still clung to his hand.

“Lou—” Harry gasped.

Liam put a hand on Louis’ shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “C’mon, mate. It’s time.”

Louis nodded. He bent down to give Harry a quick peck and pulled his hand out of Harry’s grip.

“Fingers crossed, love,” he said with a wry grin.

Then he wrenched himself from Harry, turned around and let Liam guide him into the courtroom.

*

Louis stepped out of the courtroom into the hall, momentarily blinded by the sunlight. The bench in front of the courtroom was empty. Dazed, he looked frantically up and down the hall for Harry.

He startled when Liam wrapped an arm around his shoulders and turned him a little to the left, pointing to the end of the hall. “There.”

Harry had his back to them, head down and hands clasped behind his back, he was walking down the hall with the slow, measured steps of someone who has been pacing for a while.

Louis made a strangled inarticulate noise, staggering a couple of steps as Liam gave him a gentle shove in Harry’s direction.

Harry spun around, poised like a deer at the sound of a gunshot.

Louis took a step toward him, then another, picking up speed until he was almost running down the hall. He jumped into Harry’s waiting arms.

“I’m free!” Louis said giddily as Harry spun them around. “Acquitted. Not guilty.”

Harry laughed, elated, speechless.

“I can’t believe it. Zayn did it. They had his statement, and after Liam said his piece...” Louis told him, breathless, as Harry put him down.

Harry pulled Louis into a kiss, almost lifting him off his feet again, then started kissing him all over his face. “You’re free. You’re not going to prison. You’re not going away,” he babbled between kisses.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Louis confirmed.

“You’re not leaving me,” Harry said, going still, looking at Louis with wide, shining eyes.

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck. “I’m not leaving you.”

They both leaned in at the same time, and Harry’s hands tightened around his waist as their lips came together, over and over again in soft, quick, desperate kisses.

“Not to interrupt, but let’s take this outside before they charge you both for public indecency, yeah?” Liam chimed, coming up to them at last.

*

It was late in the afternoon, but the sun was still hot as it came in through the glass window walls at Heathrow airport.

The vanilla frappe was watered down, and the table was littered with shredded paper napkins.

Louis didn’t notice him until his shadow fell across the table. He looked up and saw him: the fingers of one hand hooked around the collar of his tank top, and the other gripping his elbow. They stared at each other for a long moment, the sound of chattering and rolling suitcases around them filling the silence between them.

“You look good, babe,” Zayn said finally, quietly.

Louis crumpled the bit of napkin he had left in his hand, then swept to a side the pieces on the tabletop. “You cut your hair.”

Zayn smoothed a palm over his shaved head, still standing. “Yeah.”

Louis motioned for him to sit down and Zayn took the seat in front of him, folding himself into the chair with one knee drawn up to his chest. “I can’t believe you agreed to see me...” he said, voice quavering. “After everything.”

“I can’t believe you came through in the end,” Louis replied.

Zayn rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not—” he sighed. “I never wanted any of this, but the way we were living... it wasn’t living. I was just trying to get out. I wanted to get us _both_ out.”

Louis’ hand started drifting to the paper napkin dispenser but he stopped himself. “Well, you did it.”

“I did.” Zayn glanced at Louis’ hand on the table, his own fingers twitching where they were worrying at the rips in the knee of his jeans. “I wish... I wish it could have been different between us.”

“Me too,” Louis said simply.

Zayn unfolded himself in an abrupt movement, spinning the paper napkin dispenser toward him he pulled out a napkin and then reached into his pocket for a pen.

Louis watched Zayn as he started doodling on the napkin. “So what are you going to do now?” he asked after a moment.

Zayn looked up at him, tapping the tip of the pen against his lips. “My sister accepted a transfer to the US—New York. I’ve been... I’ve been looking into maybe studying art there. Like, if I can get a scholarship or something.”

Louis’ mouth curved into a sincere smile. “That’s brilliant, Zayn.”

Zayn leaned forward toward Louis. “Come with me,” he blurted out. “You could...  come with me... if you wanted.”

Louis shook his head with a weak chuckle. “I have a life here, Zayn.”

Zayn’s eyes flickered to Harry, who was sitting in a booth a few tables away. “I saw the two of you before, when you arrived,” he admitted. “Boyfriend and bodyguard, huh?”

Louis gave a small chuckle. “I asked him to be here. And he doesn’t exactly trust you either.”

Zayn nodded. “I get that.” He put the pen back in his pocket. “Maybe you can convince him for you to come visit me someday.”

“Maybe.” Louis got to his feet. “Take care of yourself, Zee.”

“You too.” Zayn pushed the chair back and stood up, stepping around the table so that they were facing each other.

Neither of them moved for a beat, then they came together in a tight embrace, clutching at each other.

“Love you,” Zayn whispered hoarsely.

Louis didn’t reply, but when they separated he nodded at Zayn, his face scrunched up in an effort not to cry.

“Bye, Zayn,” he choked out at last.

Zayn took a step back. “Bye.”

Louis remained standing by the table while Zayn walked out of the café area, then he sat down again, elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. After a bit, he came out of his reverie and noticed the napkin with the doodle on the table.

He spun it around with one finger so that it was facing him. His breath caught when he saw what Zayn had doodled.

He looked up and saw him some distance down the hall, looking back at him. Their eyes met. Zayn raised a hand in farewell, and Louis mirrored the movement. A group of tourists obscured Zayn from view for a few seconds, and in the next blink he was gone.

Louis folded the napkin with the doodle carefully, tucking in his pocket, then walked over to Harry’s table. He sat down across him, stretching his arms across the table, hands palms up. Harry took his hands immediately.

“All right?” Harry asked, looking him over with concern.

“Yeah.” Louis nodded, and a small smile made itself onto his face. “Yeah. I’m all right.”


	9. Chapter 9

His phone beeped signalling a new email. Louis opened his eyes and lifted his head from the cradle of his arms. Lying on his front on the deck chair, he groped for his mobile and raised himself on his forearms to read it. 

Water splashed the back of his legs.

“Louis!”

“What?” Louis rolled onto his front and sat up to talk to Liam, who was treading water at the edge of the pool.

“Niall’s asking what you want to eat, mate.”

“Chicken burger,” Louis said shortly, distracted.

Liam looked at Louis with a small frown and a pout. “Right-o. I’ll tell Niall.”

He was careful not to splash Louis as he swam to the other end of the pool, where Niall was working the barbecue. Louis watched as Liam relayed the message and waited until Niall had given him a thumbs up before turning back to his mobile.

Drawing his legs up, he bent over it so that he could see the screen in the sunlight. Once he had read and re-read the message, he put the phone down, but kept his position, staring off into the distance.

“Hey.” Harry leaned on the edge of the pool and looked up at him, brow creased. “Is something wrong?”

Louis glanced at Liam, who gave him a caught in the headlights look before diving back into the water. Louis got off the chair and sat at the edge of the pool instead, legs crossed.

“They’re opening an investigation against Simon,” he told Harry.

“That’s good!”

“Hm.” Louis sat for a moment, biting his nails, staring over at Niall unseeing.

Harry squeezed his ankle. “It might not lead to anything... but at least they’re looking into it, right? You were so brave speaking up, Lou.”

Louis made a face, shaking his head.

“Louis—”

Louis shushed him. “I’ve been thinking... about what you said.”

Harry looked at him in confusion. “About what?”

Louis rubbed his hands together nervously. “About how my grades aren’t awful—”

“—they’re quite good, actually.”

Louis hummed. “Well, I was thinking if I pass the subjects I’ve got left—”

“—you will.”

Louis tugged on the hair of Harry’s forearm. “Stop interrupting, Harold.” He took a deep breath. “I was thinking maybe I could... go to uni? For, like, social work.”

Harry smiled at him, giving his ankle another squeeze. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to, and if that’s what you want then you should definitely go for it.”

Louis bit his lip. “I keep thinking maybe I can help other kids to not end up with people like Simon.”

Harry looked at him in wonder. “That’s—You’re amazing, Lou.”

Louis shook his head, eyes lowered, but after a beat he clapped his hands and looked at Harry with a grin. “Well, we’ll see. Right now I want a beer, and my burger, and a snog from the hottie in the yellow shorts.”

He scooted forward until he was sitting with his legs in the water, with Harry between them.

Harry hoisted his upper body out of the pool, the muscles in his arms rippling, dripping water.

Louis stared at him, open-mouthed, making Harry’s grin widen before he leaned in to bring their mouths together.

Louis made a small sound of pleasure into the kiss while he ran his hands over Harry’s chest and shoulders. “Those shorts should be illegal,” he said, a little breathless, when they separated.

Harry nipped at his jaw before dropping back into the water. “Just wait till we get home.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” Louis asked with a giggle, nudging Harry’s sides underwater with his feet.

“It’s a—”

A beach ball came flying at them, bouncing lightly off Harry’s head.

“Heeey!” Harry protested.

“Oi!” Louis shot a glare at Niall, who was laughing his head off with a grinning Liam standing next to him.

“At least wait until we’re taking a nap!” Liam called.

Louis flipped him off, then turned to Harry, raising his eyebrows. “I think that was an invitation to make out while they’re sleeping.”

Harry cackled. “It’s on.”  
 

**Author's Note:**

> I did some research for the legal bits and all, but I can only hope it was plausible. If not, I apologize.
> 
> Apparently this is how I deal with my Zouis feels and my pain over Louis' unfair treatment through the years and the mess of stunts going on right now. 
> 
> Though more than a little self-indulgent, I hope somebody out in the world found it enjoyable. If that's the case and you want to leave a comment or some kudos... that would be great. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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